


Heartlines

by aetherish



Series: Heartlines Verse [1]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Dreyar drama, Epic Friendship, Fortune Telling, I grew up with these kids I want to do them justice, Implied Sexual Content, Magic Council, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Mystery, Natsu and Gray are S-class, No canon material was hurt in the making of this story, Not Self-Insert, Not another Slayer OC, Not connected to the 100 Year Quest spinoff, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pseudoscience, Slow Burn, Swearing, Team Natsu Feels, The FT members are sort of famous, Violence, and all the trouble that comes with that, lore expansion, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2019-09-28 17:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aetherish/pseuds/aetherish
Summary: X796. The conclusion of the war against Alvarez did not erase the battle-lines across the continent, only redrew them. Times are lawless and the Wizarding World is changing: Legal Guilds are spread thin, Dark Guilds are warring amongst themselves and the Council is in disarray.In Magnolia, the team is struggling to find normalcy after failing the Hundred Year Quest. Lucy suffers from insecurity, Erza shoulders the blame and Gray is just not feeling like himself anymore. Burned out and self-doubting, Laxus navigates his newfound duties as Guild Master with the Council breathing down his neck and threatening to shut down Fairy Tail for good.In Crocus, Sting and Lyon find themselves in the middle of a political scandal with no one to trust but each other, while Minerva and Rogue are confronted by shadows from both past and future.In Era, a disgraced soldier tries to untangle the complex minutia of her private life from her obligations to the Council, meanwhile Jellal, seeking absolution, teams up with his former persecutors to uncover a plot of evil that may very well bring an end to them all.And somewhere within the depths of Natsu's mind, a demon is stirring again.





	1. Card One: Scene One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Lord, I did it. I’m done with this monstrosity of a chapter. And if you’re reading this, I even mustered enough courage to publish it.
> 
> Oh, pardon my manners. My name is Aetherish and welcome to the first chapter of *drumroll* Heartlines. I have been planning this fic for years, no joke. Long before FT had ended, I just never got around to writing it. But this summer I’ve decided to sit down on my ass and write it out.  
> I was a tad bit (translation: tremendously) disappointed with the ending of FT and how some characters, character arcs and relationships were treated, so I decided to turn this into a sort of fix-it, where I give some of the characters a more proper send-off. 
> 
> As a warning I would like to tell you, that I am not a native speaker of English, therefore grammar, spelling and punctuation errors may occur throughout the story, for which I am terribly sorry. If the story reaches a bit of popularity, I will consider getting a beta-reader. 
> 
> We will talk at the end of the chapter, so until then, sit back and enjoy the ride!

 

 

* * *

## Card One: The Burning Tower

## Scene I. 

* * *

“We have not touched the stars,  
nor are we forgiven, which brings us back  
to the hero's shoulders and the gentleness that comes,  
not from the absence of violence, but despite  
the abundance of it.“  
**—Richard Siken**

* * *

It wasn't even past noon yet and Gray Fullbuster was already balls-deep in trouble.

"Get the boy!" came a shout, a menagerie of howling thugs hot on his tail.

It should not have come as a surprise, getting into trouble, that is. A satirical twist on the Universal Law of Attraction. Gray Fullbuster gravitated towards trouble like a moth to a Lacryma, and in turn he attracted trouble just as equally. Simple as that. It was the curse of Fairy Tail mages: their touch unavoidably drove everything towards entropy and when suddenly given direct orders not to cause any destruction, even the most obedient ones would find it hard to forget their roots.

The ramshackle houses blurred into one as he took alleys and side streets, zigzagging his way across the slums. Black filled the edges of his vision; the only sound he could hear was his own heartbeat. The pain leeching on his muscles and lungs felt exquisite. He burned hotter in his adrenaline and ether high, than any flame a fire mage could conjure.

This was it. The home-stretch, the finish line, the light at the end of the tunnel. The pain, the sleepless nights and the all the times they'd risked life and limb—they were all boiling down to this day. They were threading metaphorical no man's land now. Fiore had not spit out a single wizard in three generations who managed to get this close to completing it: the hundred-year quest.

Whatever reward awaited them at the end of the road, it was within reach now, he could almost graze it with his fingers. And it would be rightfully theirs, gloriously soaked in three years' worth of their blood, sweat and tears.

Initially, the quest itself had sounded ridiculously easy, no frills. Hunt down and retrieve a long lost family heirloom —a book —for a powdered Fiorean dandy, who'd been so far up his own ass, that he refused to meet them in person, only through his couriers. Turns out that no one knew where fate had tossed the book since its disappearance, however a whole network of dark guilds and other illegal organizations was dead-set on finding it before them. Not a huge surprise, considering its ludicrous price on the black market. It had taken three years of searching, solving cryptic riddles, beating up and interrogating criminals who had come across it, trashing dark guilds for information and raking through black markets for them to ferret out the book's current location. Unsurprisingly enough, one of the better known crime-lord's been sitting on it for the better part of the century, but the old twat had kept it hidden well enough.

The only thing left had been to break into the crime lord's estate on a sheltered island town and steal it back. The crime lord was not even a wizard. And yet, there Gray was, fleeing from a town's worth of furious assailants under broad daylight.

Apparently he and his team, oh so conveniently forgot to take three facts into consideration: one, the crime lord lived within the walls of the most impregnable mansion on the continent, two, he'd amassed enough wealth to hire complete mercenary guilds to prowl the grounds of his estate, and three, every single person in this town, women and children included, was a pawn on the chessboard of one of Fiore's highest esteemed criminals. One could not start breaking the law young enough, it seemed.

A loud bang sent him careening into reality again. A building went up in flames a few blocks away.

Gray cursed and slid into an alley. Natsu, damn him, had no sense of discretion. But admittedly, that was exactly where the Dragon Slayer's talents lay. According to the plan, he merely had to divert attention from Gray by any means possible. The Ice Mage had to admit his friend did his part of the plan with admirable excellence. The town was in an uproar. The cacophony of gunshots and the clash of weapons crashed over the streets like a flood and somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled as well.

Sewage and puddles of excrement littered the alley and he tried not to puke from the smell. Smoke blossomed from the burning building, painting the sky a muddled grey. Darkness descended upon the town. He internally cursed Erza for choosing such a shithole for a meeting point and made a mental-note to give their self-proclaimed strategist a tongue-lashing later.

The Ice Mage sagged against a wall. Perhaps he could allow himself a minute of rest. He loosened the buttons of his coat, panting. Exhaustion was starting to catch up to him, he could feel it creep into his bones.

The Compact Communications Lacryma vibrated in his pocket, happily signaling he'd reached his destination. They'd decided on a place near the docks, a small square flanked by abandoned buildings. Once they left this island, they could return to Magnolia. To Fairy Tail.

Three years had passed since they embarked on the hundred year quest and they had not set foot in the guild since. They'd bid their farewells in high spirits, but Gray knew it was guilt that had forced them all to leave Magnolia, escape Magnolia really. Grief echoed in his chest, sustained on its own reverberations. His thoughts wandered to the town, to the people who had lost their homes in the war against Alvarez and the subsequent rampage of Acnologia.

Magnolia had been rendered to dust through it all. Not for the first time. And as long as his guild thrived, definitely not the last.

All because of them.

Sometimes he wondered if they deserved the public's overly-reverent lionization, if they truly were heroes. They did protect the country from Zeref and his dark forces, but at what cost? Restorations proceeded sluggishly and were time and money consuming. The country and the crown were spiraling into financial crisis, the king's health had been failing for the good part of the year while Queen Hisui was yet too untried to handle all of this alone.

Suddenly he became acutely aware of the object weighing down his other pocket. The book they'd stolen was the first handwritten copy of The Voyager of Worlds, a historic epoch. It was a heavy book, bound in deep blue leather, decorated with whorls and swirls and vines and spanning a good five-hundred pages. It was also an ancient book, a true masterpiece of wordsmithery, he hadn't the slightest inkling how old it could be. Surely a few hundred years had passed since its conception, yet its owner kept it in immaculate condition. Gray snorted. He found it oddly controversial for a crime lord to mollycoddle a book of all things. But honest to the gods, he too would pamper any book if it fetched as good a price as this one did.

He felt them before he heard them. Squelching footsteps echoed in the alleys. The next moment, all exits from the square were crowded with a few dozen scruffy swashbucklers.

Their cover had been blown.

Fucking hell. His life just had to be miserable this morning.

Gray took stock of his surroundings. The walls too slippery, any window too high for him to reach. Surely, he could summon something to lift himself with but that would open him up to attacks even more and these people were bound to carry weapons with them. No Maker Magic —not even Ur's —could match the speed of a gun utilized wisely.

"Yer cornered, boy." the one who seemed to be the leader of the group quipped. He was one hell of a despicable thing if Gray was honest with himself. Beard like wire, the puffy red nose of an alcoholic, grease and dirt stains all over a shirt that barely covered a belly most men get with age.

Briefly, he wondered how he would have turned out —a homeless, piss-poor, starving rat, not much unlike the vile residents of this abject little town —had not Ur and Lyon found him among the charred rubble that day. Had not Ur's paraeneses and sacrifice steered him onto the right path. He shook his head. No time to dwell on the things he was thankful to Ur for.

"Show yerself." the man demanded.

There was no need to hide any longer. Gray flipped back his hood. Recognition flared in those eyes. A whisper of his name shuddered across the crowd. They murmured anxiously among themselves, like a flock of unsettled animals. Seemed like they'd been unaware which pack of wizards they were up against.

"Pre'eh far from home, ain't ya, airy-fairy?" their leader spoke again. A local gang, probably. Brown-nosing pawns of the crime lord.

Gray shrugged. "By your leave gentlemen, I do not plan to stay long."

"All cloak 'n' dagger in an alley, wonder what ya been doin'." the man grinned.

A big slab of meat of a man said, a muscle-bound behemoth, really. Gray never considered himself a small kid, but this man was easily twice his size. "Got sticky fingers, this one. Ya ganked somethin' that's ours, ya lil' thievin' pixie."

"This?" Gray lifted the book with a grin. "Stealing something back from a criminal… what does that make me? A re-thief?" he pinched his chin in mock-contemplation. "I'll have to think about the nomenclature later."

The swarm of men grumbled as one, as if he had personally offended each of them.

"Ya got nerve, ya lil' runt. Tha’ book's belonged to the Boss' famileh for ovah a centureeh." their leader spoke again. His brogue of the common tongue was heavy, Gray could barely make sense of what he was saying. "Yer tossin' round a billion Jewels. Give it to us and there'll be no violence."

The Ice Mage sighed. His role in this heist had been to lay low, stay hidden, stay subtle. Smuggle the book out to the docks while the others bustled. Beating two dozen men into a bloody coma was not subtle in any sense of the word.

"Or, you know," he pocketed the book. "you could just let me go. And avoid paying half a million for medical bills."

The leader pulled out a knife from his belt. The Ice Mage rolled his eyes. Did he really want to stab him with a knife? Could these guys get any more mediocre?

"Are you sure you want to be using that?" Gray pointed at the flimsy weapon. "I thought you knew who I am."

In all its condescending nature, it was true. After the Grand Magic Games and the war against Alvarez, his face and those of his teammates had been exhibited throughout Fiore like five unflattering parade balloons. (And don't even get him started on the fucking action figures.) Little had changed in four years. Everyone and their mother knew who Gray Fullbuster was.

The gang leader spat on the ground. "Got a mouth on ya, lil' fairy. 'Course I know who ya are. Half my clients wanta' skin ya alive, the otha half wanta' fuck yer ass. Know a stuffed ma'am in Bosco who'd pay ackers for yer pre'eh face. Yer outnumbered, give up before we clip yer wings." He twirled the knife between his meaty fingers with the experience of the man who did not use it to cut pockets open.

His CCL* vibrated again, this time with increased frequency. It must be Erza calling. Damn it, he really should not be wasting time here. At noon, the ship will sail to Hargeon, either with them on board or without.

He clicked his tongue.

"I'm really not in the mood for this, guys." he pulled out the phone, grinning. "You see, I really should answer this. My friend, Erza gets pretty mad when she's ignored. You must be familiar with her: red hair, can change her armor at will, you know, can split a mountain with a slash. Not someone you want to anger. "

"Ya got spunk in ya. If ya won't give me the book, we'll take it by force. I'll make sure to wipe tha' cocky-ass smirk off yer face along the way."

In a blink a dozen men were on him like starved vultures grappling for their prey. They lunged at his legs, his chest, his neck. He dodged them with otherworldly calmness, blocking their punches and kicks with his bare fist. Magic, raw and unforgiving burst from his palms, leaving cool steam and hail and snow in its wake. The turbulent, fiercely primordial stream of it hummed under his skin, beneath his fingertips, behind his eyeballs, between his ribs.

With his magic he hurtled the men across the square. His ice lances tore through the air quickly, cutting through cloth and flesh and bone.

A growl came from behind him and Gray pivoted on his heels, slamming a fist into another attacker's jaw. It sent the man staggering back against one of his comrades, both of them tumbling over in a tangle of limbs.

He hit the damp ground before he felt the pain, only having seen his next assailant from the corner of his eye a second too late. A sharp kick to his back, easily knocking him over. Pain erupted behind his eyelids in a flurry of stars. He was no match against the man's bulk. Instinctively he rolled over, right before a meaty fist could bash his head in. The man swore, splintering his knuckles on the sharp, cracked cobblestones. Gray wasted no time to take the opportunity. Pressing his palms against the ground for support, he kicked the man in the belly, then gave his bollocks a generous boot as well.

He hummed in approval as the man collapsed, screaming in pain. "That should knock you out."

Catching him off-guard, the edge of a blade hurtled a hair's breadth away from his face. His magic —a sensing, feeling and very much alive thing inside him —noticed the threat before his mundane senses could, tugging on his muscles, screaming at him to move, move move. Gray cursed as another blade split the skin of his shoulder in a rush of blood. The world flashed red and agony tore at him.

The leader grinned, fiendish, several knives levitating in the air around him. His teeth reminded Gray of sweetcorn. A stark, vivid yellow even beneath the shade of the alley. The Ice Mage felt like vomiting.

"Telekinesis." Gray rasped. How original. "Honestly, I didn't have high expectations but that's just a new low." He pressed a hand against his shoulder to stall the bleeding with his ice. The kiss of the cold was familiar, a soothing salvation against the ache of the wound.

How pathetic. Natsu would give him hell for getting wounded by a petty telekinetic.

"Looks like we're alone. For now." He quipped, twirling another blade with his fingers and not paying any heed to the Ice Mage's mocking words. He had been right. His two-dozen men lay whimpering on the ground, nursing their wounds like stray dogs, the rest pinned immobile against the walls by his ice or unconscious. But for how long? Given the size of the town, reinforcements would come sooner rather than later. He had to make this quick or everything they had been working for in the past three years would go to shit.

Gray lifted his fists. His shoulder screamed in protest. "Run while you still can."

His shield was up before the knives rained down on him. The ice was thicker, sturdier and he almost felt a jolt of pity at the sheer ridiculousness of the knives bouncing off it like rubber balls. Gray released his hold on the ether and the shield shattered at his will.

With all his weapons proven useless, the man was stunned into silence. It was easy to land a punch in his face. His nose made a horrifying crunch when it broke. The man screamed in agony when a fountain of blood erupted from his nostrils.

"Ya fucken cunt, Imma cut ya up." He shrieked and staggered on his feet as if drunk. Spitting blood, he used his momentum to shoulder into Gray, sending him off-balance. His back hit the ground again and he groaned as the wound on his shoulder tore open. The man pinned him down with his weight easily, his ruined nose dripping blood over Gray's face. When he grinned at him triumphantly, his teeth were stained crimson. The Ice Mage flexed against his confinements but the man was bigger, broader, heavier.

"Not so strong now, pixie dust?" he laughed, spitting into Gray's face. The wounded arm throbbed excruciatingly.

Gray grinned in reply. Blue light erupted from his right hand.

"You must be a huge dumbass to underestimate a Fairy Tail mage." With a loud bang, a hammer made of ice plunked down upon the thug's head, rendering him unconscious. It was just in time that Gray whipped away his own head, narrowly missing the assault of the hammer himself. The weapon splintered into a million crystals as it hit the ground. He sighed in relief against the sagged body of the man.

One-handed maker magic really was a wild-card. Every time he'd been forced to use it, he almost ended up killing himself in the process, this time was no different. The ocean must be restless now, Ur turning in her grave upon seeing him use the blasphemous technique. How Lyon managed to get by with this half-baked hocus-pocus for years was beyond him.

Throwing the body off himself, he dusted his clothes off.

"Owned by a telekinetic? Perhaps it's time to renounce your S-class certificate, Fullbuster." The grin on Natsu Dragneel's mug was positively insufferable. The Dragon Slayer had doffed his vest, billowy trousers and precious scarf for the success of the heist, and crouched atop the wall attired in all black. Dressed in similar fashion, Erza, Lucy and Wendy stood next to him with Happy and Carla flapping their wings in the air.

Gray spat on the ground. "It was not a fair fight, asshole." This tosser had the audacity to taunt him despite having left him to his own devices against two dozen men while having known full well that Gray was not allowed to use his magic to its full extent, unless he wanted to attract attention and compromise the success of the mission thoroughly. "I fought two dozen men unarmed while you guys ran amok under broad daylight."

"Excuses." Natsu mocked. "But you're paying for dinner nevertheless. Can't wait for Mira's spicy chicken wings."

"Gray." Erza addressed. "I called you on CCL."

"As you can see, I was…preoccupied." He growled in retort and wiped the gang-leader's blood off his face with a grimace. "Thank you for the concern. You couldn't have chosen a shittier place to meet up, the enemy found me real quick."

"That's exactly why I'd called." A ship's horn boomed at the docks. Erza sheathed her sword. "Well, we'll all be thanking you for your tardiness if we miss our ride home. Now let's get going." His upbringing stopped Gray from flipping Erza the bird, but the look he gave her would've been enough to start a hailstorm.

Lucy clapped her hands eagerly. "Home, sweet home! I'm coming!"

A premonitory chill ran down Gray's spine at her words.

Home. The word sounded almost alien to his ears.

He wondered what awaited them across the sea. The guild would be a mess as always. Mirajane would be smiling kindly behind the counter, her sister expertly twirling around with steaming plates of food and foaming kegs of beer. Gajeel and Laxus would be arm-wrestling at a table with Shadow Gear and the Thunder God Tribe cheering them on. Reedus would be drawing a portrait of Laki and Cana would be running the table in Legenca, beating Macao and Wakaba to bankruptcy while getting hammered. And Juvia would be around his neck immediately, showering him with tears and kisses. And somewhere, in one of the forgotten, dusty corners of the hall, someone would be playing the gods damned fiddle.

Yes. He smiled fondly. Maybe it really is time to return to Fairy Tail.

A cold gust of wind swept across the streets. It carried with it a lingering scent of the sea.

Across that sea lay Fiore, lay Fairy Tail. It was the scent of home.

But the air was portentously heavy with something else, something he couldn't quite name, as if he'd inhaled lead powder. It reminded him of the uncanny pressure before a particularly massive downpour, the calm before the storm.

Then there was a reverberation in the back of his mind, a gentle susurrus at first, a white noise melting in on itself until it crescended into a distinct frequency. A disharmony tainted the vibration, a borderline-maddening oscillation of pressure-waves until it turned into one simple, defined command, melodiously archaic and violently raw. The words carried no meaning to him, but an eerie sort of familiarity tainted them, as though he'd heard them before.

" _Ih rigoros._ "

Later, when Gray would recall the events for his mission report, he would not be able to tell which came first: the explosion or the screams.

The bodies of the men he'd rendered unconscious blew up at once. In a reflex innately ingrained within his nervous system, he threw himself to the ground. Blood and pieces of flesh splattered on his clothes. He tried cover his face but found to his slow, sedate horror that he was paralyzed to the bone.

A suffocating stillness suffused the small square. Smoke drifted by, and a rat scurried across the passage. A hooded figure came through the smoke, no more than a sliver of darkness.

The Ice Mage struggled to breathe under the pressure of the figure's ether. How couldn't any of them notice such a suffocating aura? Neither of them were Sensor Mages, but even the most incompetent wizard would have sensed a presence as prominent as this from the other side of the town.

Gray lay sprawled on the ground, curled in a near fetal position. His heart drummed deafeningly in his ears. The smell of cooking flesh was deceptively savory. It would sit snug in his nose for days afterward, teetering him to the brink of throwing up every now and then. There was a repulsive, mangled, thing in the back of his mind, a tiny malignant monster, clawing against his sanity: a deep, nauseating fear that threatened to snatch his breath away. He trembled at its touch, jounced to the very core. His magic roiled in return, in an arcanely intimate manner, run, run, run, while you still can. He found he couldn't, as if his legs were made of ice.

The figure spoke with a man's voice. "Thank you for tracking down and retrieving the book for me, Fairies. You saved me a great deal of work, you know." There was a white mask under that hood, devoid of any marks and expressions.

Erza, ever the quick to overcome her inertia, addressed the man, while Gray struggled to find his voice. The Ice Mage was stunned to see that the usually composed woman's face had gone chalk-white. Her voice was deceptively soft, so unlike her usually unwavering tone, barely a whisper. "What the hell did you just do to these people?"

The man spread his arms in a theatrical gesture. Gray did not fail to notice the leather gloves covering them. Not a single inch of the body beneath the garb was visible to the naked eye, if the Ice Mage did not know better, it could have been a demon plucked straight from one of Zeref's books. No, the distinct tremor of his right arm was absent, —that's where the power of his late father was nestled —the creature lurking beneath the mask could not be a demon. And Zeref Dragneel was dead, not an inch of his cursed, immortal body left behind.

No, it was the hands of a human that murdered all these men.

"Titania," the stranger addressed. "Your beauty is even more stunning in the flesh. Although I must say, seeing you scared out of your wits is a sight to behold. I will cherish this memory deeply." for a second Gray could have sworn he heard the smile in the man's voice. The masked face turned towards the charred carcasses on the ground.

"Such sad and weak creatures." he marveled. His mask did not alleviate the utter detachment he expressed towards death. "They had no place in the New World. They had to perish. Demolition must always precede reconstruction."

Despite all his efforts to avoid his eyes, the sight burned into Gray's mind like a brand. The combustion reduced the bodies to mere husks, their faces contorted in a ghastly rictus, all of them beyond recognition. The irrevocability and incontrovertibility of death propelled into him with the force of a shooting star. The men he had fought minutes ago were dead. Irrevocably and incontrovertibly dead. His vitriolic abhorrence to them evaporated in an instant. Suddenly he wished to know all of their long and tortured histories; he wanted to feel the pain of separation as they were torn from the physical world by their deaths, their souls streaming out of their bodies like tears.

He could not see this again… this inalterable one-sidedness, this unavoidable massacre… Not after his mother and father and Ur. Not after Deliora.

"What are you talking about? You sound like… like Zeref." breathed Gray, staring in horror at the man. He was taken aback by the weakness of his own voice. Indeed, the masked wizard's words bore a distinct similarity to the Black Wizard's teachings.

"Zeref was but a prophet. His life was as much of a proof of the One God's existence as it was an example for us to follow."

"You rotten bastard, what sort of shit-talk is that?" snarled Natsu, his green eyes flashing alarmingly. His voice did not lose its fire even in the face of death. "You torched dozens of innocent people for an idea?" Instantly, the Dragon Slayer was back on his feet, hurtling towards the man with a burning fist.

The man lifted a palm against Natsu's heedless onslaught. " _Ih dernas._ " Natsu yelped as a muscle spasmed in his spine, sending him face-first into the ground. His body hit the cobblestones with a hollow thump that made Gray want to throw up. "My time's been cut short, so I will have to deal with you later, Etherious-boy. Although I must say your brother's work on you was impeccable, you truly were his magnum opus. But don't worry, I am not done with you just now. Behave until next time, okay?"

Gray's magic howled like a caged wolf deep within his core. But he could not move. Could not breathe.

The masked wizard had paralyzed them all with his wicked magic. Despite all his efforts to flex against the invisible binding, his body did not budge. The dark ether had slithered into his very core, tainting the marrow of his bones, the coating the fibres of his muscles and dissolving within the synovia of his joints.

Footsteps echoed in the alley. When the boots stopped in front of his face, the man crouched down. His long cape fanned out around him like a halo of darkness. A hand lifted Gray's face by the hair. Up close, the man's eyes were visible beneath the mask. But those eyes… they were dark but nothing like Gray's own. Undeniably human but also nothing akin to anything he'd ever seen. The dark irises reminded him of galaxies where all the stars had been snuffed out. Staring into them was a discovery in itself, a journey into an occult, primordial secret.

Those eyes closed in deadly mirth as he praised: "Devil Slayer. You guarded the book so well —good dog."

"Son of a bitch." spat Gray.

"Hush now, you." he chided. "That's not how you talk to your employer."

The realization broke over Gray in a crushing wave. A ripple of numb pain erupted from his heart and rushed to every part of his body, a rattling hollowness, voracious and all-consuming.

How did they not realize?

Of course. They had been led on. For three godforsaken years they'd been lied to and made fools of and neither of them realized.

In that moment, with a touch of dilatory regret, Gray realized —not for the first time in his life, and in retrospect, not for the last either —that the world did not operate on equilibrium. Even the planet itself spun on a tilted axis. Vanguard soldiers were the first to die for their bravery in times of war, sickness and misfortune came to those who followed their soul's desires, rightful judgement rarely came upon sinners, and no matter how much work and pain and effort you put into a goal, it can slip through your fingers in a blink of an eye. All that you've strived for can be reduced to nothing.

The cards had been stacked against them all along. They'd worked their asses off for three years for a lie.

"Who… who the hell are you?"

"That is of no significance to you, dog." came his answer. The Ice Wizard's mind pulsed again, the sound amplified from the flutter of a hummingbird's wings to the cacophony of a marching band in a span of a second. " _Ih limnos_." the man commanded.

As if hooked on strings, his body was lifted into the air by an invisible force. Air, sweet, merciful air rushed into his lungs but the claws that held his muscles captive did not ease.

The gloved hand reached into the pocket of Gray's coat. When he withdrew the book, his other hand clamped down on the Ice Mage's forehead, vice-like.

"I was only supposed to leave the demon-boy alive." he indicated towards Natsu with his head. "But you intrigue me. I've decided to spare your lives. Your souls are eclipsed in darkness. And when the Day of the Reckoning comes, use that darkness as your light to guide you home."

"Now scream."

And Gray screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so as you can see, I have decided not to touch the trainwreck that was the Alvarez arc, that is why this story is set years after the epilogue of the manga. I wanted to give all the characters a tabula rasa and I believe a three-year timeskip was the best way to do it. In case you were wondering how old that makes everyone, here it is. Natsu (physically, obvs), Lucy, Yukino: 22, Gray, Gajeel: 23, Erza, Sting and the rest of the Sabertooth gang: 24, Wendy: 17, Laxus: 28, Lyon, Jellal: 30
> 
> Yes, this story will contain an OC/Canon character pairing and as a matter of fact, a bunch of OCs, but only a few will be playing major roles, so hopefully you will be able to keep up with them. Most of the main characters and POV characters will be canon though. However a lot of original content will be sewn into the canon lore as well, because I felt like the world of FT could use some fleshing-out, even after the manga's eleven-year long run.
> 
> I did a lot of prior research and worked hard to make my OCs canon-compliant yet still different enough to be intriguing, so hopefully you will be able to enjoy the story just as much as I enjoy writing it. I myself refrain from reading OC/Canon stories most of the time too, therefore I understand if most of you are judgemental.
> 
> With this out of the way, I would like to thank anyone who read this or will continue to read it in the future. If you liked it, loved it, or perchance hated it, feel free to drop a review, so I can improve!


	2. Card One: Scene Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Hello my lovelies! First of all, thank you for sticking with me. 
> 
> This chapter introduces one of the main OCs and a significant part of the conflict, so I am pretty excited to post it. Fingers crossed that it won't be a major fuck-up and that I won't write myself into a corner with it lol. And I really hope it won't come off as a huge infodump either. 
> 
> Anyway, we will talk at the end, enjoy the chapter! As per usual, I am terribly sorry for any grammar, spelling and punctuation mistakes that might occur in the chapter.

* * *

## Card One: The Burning Tower

## Scene II. 

* * *

 

The last sliver of the sun was about to sink below the horizon when her escort ushered Rune Erandel into Vice-Chairman Wolfheim's office.

His reputation for being a man of temperament preceded him and his summons were scarce and mostly ill-boding. Rune felt no shame in the apprehension that tied her stomach into knots. She was no stranger to the capricious, sometimes downright eccentric mannerisms of Wizard Saints. One did not simply ignore their summons, no matter how politely they were worded.

Once the door opened, as if on cue, the Wizard Saint's ether thundered down on her. Rune found it hard to breathe. His presence crowded the room, she could feel his magic press down on all of her senses, a sort of primordial pressure, all-consuming and no doubt deadly to the likes of her. She was grateful for the pendant that rested on her breastbone; without it she would no doubt be throwing up her dinner all over the Councillor's expensive rugs.

His magic still managed to unbalance her though. She felt weak in the knees and she cursed the Council's rules for having to ditch all weaponry when entering a Councillor's private office. She did deem the precautions justified, given how many times the palace had been obliterated in the past decade, but she had to admit, she  _was_  vulnerable without her sword.

"Ah, Major, perfect timing." In a gentlemanly gesture she had stopped expecting from higher-ups, the Councillor turned to greet her from where he stood before his enormous window. It looked upon the jagged mountain-peaks in the distance. They were like an open maw of a beast, a gluttonous monstrosity waiting to swallow the dying star in whole. A fitting view for a man like Wolfheim, Rune decided. "Welcome to the wolf's den."

Rune took a tentative glance around. Everything was precisely ordered in the room, well-guarded and tended to: from the multitudes of ancient, leather-bound books and crumbling scrolls stocked into the shelves of the enormous bookcases that flanked the doorway, to the gleaming weaponry and intricate tapestry the walls were ornamented with. Tastefully furnished, the office was as a testament to old-world elegance.

Wolfheim's black silhouette contrasted with the oranges, yellows and crimsons the sunset drenched the room in, sturdy as a statue despite his height, and powerful beyond his age. Even a non-magic user could not question the tremendous amount of magic caged within the small, withering body. But to someone like her, his ether was a strobing light that pulsated with the intensity of a blazing supernova.

His eyes were at half-mast, the detachment of a man gazing through a microscope. The hardened lines of his hoary face and the rawness of his charcoal eyes bespoke of a mage who'd had his fair share of hell back in his days.

She snapped her heels together. "Reporting for duty, sir."

"At ease." he intoned, gesturing at the chairs provided for guests, while he made a beeline to his desk to seat himself. "I trust you have had a pleasant day off, Major."

Rune's felt her lips quirk into a semblance of a smirk. It seemed like the Vice-Chairman, despite his reputation, did enjoy some small-talk. It was both unsettling and a relief compared to Chairman Hyberion's ruthless, in medias res briefings. But she had recognized the sentiment for what is really was: a leash, putting her into place. A demonstration of power. A reminder, that she would be chained to the Council as long as the crux ansata was etched into her skin, a painful memento of the sin she had committed. That they knew where she was, and what she was doing at all times.

She took a deep breath.

"I requested leave to honor the traditions of my nation. Bellans are ought to pay their respects to their dead around this time, every summer."

"Judging by the bloody history of your country, I suspect, there must be plenty."

Rune nodded in agreement. "History has not been kind to my people, sir." The words tasted bitter in her mouth.

Indeed, the Bellan soil had been cultivated with the blood of her brethren countless times throughout the ages. When the Pergrandese seized power over the state under the guise of liberation, the country had been reduced to nothing but sand-blasted rock and devastation.

A frown descended upon Wolfheim's face, but he remained diplomatically silent and rummaged through the assortment of files on his desk. Rune was glad he elected not to press the matter further. Dark and overwhelming, a sense of anguish, and with it, the need for redemption threatened to wash over her. And once the dam was broken, there would be no turning back. Sometimes she felt guilty for not having returned to Bellum in over a decade, but she had sworn she would not look back. For her mother and father, and her brother as well.

She realized with a strange, mutant melancholy that there would be nowhere to return to anyway.

The councillor looked up from what she assumed to be her service record and assessed her through the crescent-shaped lenses of his glasses. "According to your OMPF (1), you received higher education in the Academy of Sinclair, right?"

"Yes, sir." she nodded.

"You obtained an honours degree in Ethernano Theory, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you joined the military afterwards, right?"

She nodded again, scowling, suddenly at unease."Yes, sir."

"Pray tell me, Major," His eyes met hers and it was with lupine ferocity that he asked: "Why exactly did you join?"

Rune swallowed. The question did not surprise her per se, it was a conventional method to test a soldier's loyalty. If the answer did not match what the Vice-Chairman had in mind, she could easily lose her job.

But that did not worry Rune, she'd been tested like this numerous times, her answer had been meticulously crafted in advance. No, it was that she could not answer the question with  _complete_  honesty. Those who possessed the ability to take people apart could see right through it, if they exhibited sufficient effort.

"I was just a child when I realized how cruel this world is. My friends and family suffered the terrors of the Cambrian War. I do not wish to see anything like it happen again. I am fortunate enough to have escaped these terrors in time, but most of my brethren did not. Therefore I made it my duty to dedicate my life to the Council, the only institution that can restore peace to Ishgar. It is the only way I can honour their sacrifices. Without change, their deaths would have been in vain." Her dark eyes did not waver from the Councillor's. A crease appeared on the man's forehead as he contemplated her answer.

"Quite the idealist, are you? Military reality must be boring for you then. Not what you had expected. Having to order around incompetent privates in the city guard or being stuck swamped by paperwork in an office. Not a good fit for a dreamer like you." Something wicked flashed in the black eyes. Rune tried not to dwell on why. She did not like where this was going. Whatever the Councillor was getting at, he was threading dangerous territory.

She sat up straighter when she answered. "On the contrary, sir. My men are honest, trustworthy and hard-working. It is an honour to be their commanding officer."

"According to your OMPF you were dispatched to the Research branch in Minstrel,  _immediately_  after graduating from the Academy, then called back to Era to work in the city guard just last year. Promotion followed promotion and you attained the rank of Major in just two years after concluding your studies. It isn't unprecedented for prodigious wizards to jump the ranks quickly, but no one has ever made it it to the rank of Major before the age of twenty-five, save for yourself and young General Brighthorn."

At the mention of the General's name, Rune instantly saw his standpoint. Something dark and molten coiled in her stomach, the acidic burn of fear. No one had ever made sense of the connection between her and the General, their late superiors had strategically placed them far from each other on the chessboard. If Wolfheim wanted to use him against her, to hurt him...

"I take great pride in my advancement through the ranks, sir. There is no greater honour for a soldier than to be rewarded for her hard work." she replied with badly feigned calmness.

"But why go as far as Minstrel? I'm no soldier, Erandel, but I like to keep my talented recruits close. I'm sure the previous leadership shared my sentiment."

"I was personally assigned to the Minstrel branch by my instructor at the Academy. A periphery station needed filling and I was in no position to question her judgement, sir."

"And who, may I ask, was this incompetent instructor of yours?"

Rune bit the inside of her cheek. She knew her OMPF did state that bit of information. "It was the younger Councillor Belno, sir. She did not work for the Council back then, like her late sister had, gods rest her soul, but was a teacher at the Academy."

"Ah." Wolfheim nodded in some kind of imminent realization Rune could not quite put her finger on.

"I just believed, —and finding out what your motivations are solidified that belief —that a soldier of your calibre, with a service record as distinguished as yours, aspired for greater heights. So I asked myself: why would someone, who'd made a travesty of the most prestigious academy on the continent and turned its world-renowned professors into laughing stock by waltzing through her studies  _summa cum laude_  in a mere two years, be sent off to another country? Why would this person be abruptly called back to Era to command a truly insignificant portion of the city guard? Why would this person's advancement be suddenly halted at the rank of Major, after jumping the ranks in such an unprecedented manner?"

She replied crisply, revealing none of the turgid fear bubbling beneath the words. "If my superior officers deem me unworthy for promotion, I will serve Ishgar from my current post with dignity."

"You have been recommended for promotion three times in the past year, Major. All three of them were turned down by Chairman Hyberion himself. To me it seems strangely like someone tried to hide your existence from prying eyes while still keeping you within their reach."

Rune's face blanched. That was all the confirmation Wolfheim needed. He intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on them, his black eyes flashing dangerously.

"It is not my place to contend the decisions of my superior officers, sir." she rasped.

"Major, I am sure you follow my thread. Drop the clueless act, you  _are_ a prodigy after all. Although I believe calling you that would be an insult to your brother, who–"

"My brother is dead,  _sir_. KIA (2) in Minstrel." She hissed through her teeth, vicious like an asp, cutting him off. She kept the honorific address but made no effort to mask her utter hatred for her superior. "Pardon my disparagement, but I find it deeply disrespectful of the dead to use their absence against those who still remain. I must be wholly missing the point of this conversation, sir." She found herself intensely, dangerously calm, trying to determine if the swelling of her chest hid uncomplicated anger or something far worse.

If Vice-Chairman Wolfheim did care about her blatant impertinence, no proof of it showed on his face.

"The point, Major," he closed her file and banished it to one of the farther corners of the table. "is that I did some research. Called in some old favours if you will. And I found out what you and your brother did. What you were. I also know why you joined the military. Why you  _had_ to join the military. I know what Gran Doma and the previous leaders used you, your brother, Lieutenant General Brighthorn and some others for. And now that I know, I want to test what you are capable of."

"I am not sure what exactly you are insinuating, Sir, but –"

He cut her off when he spoke again. Despite having been convinced her well of surprises had been depleted for the day, his words hit her unprepared again.

"Who do you, Bellans call the Sage of the Dry Sea?"

Rune was struck with a sudden sense of wrongness, of fraught, almost atavistic unease. The air seemed to arch beneath her sternum. She held her breath, palate tight.

The conclusion of the war against Alvarez had a way of redrawing the battle lines across the continent: suddenly the enemies were not from without, but from within, festering in the heart of Ishgar like a carcinoma. While the cancer had been extracted, the affected cells had scattered in the process, metastasizing in the most surreal and unpredictable ways, while the hollow niche of the original illness served as an incubator of sorts for all new pathogens that threatened the labile order. A sense of calm had settled over Ishgar. With the threat of an Alvarezian attack and the Balam Alliance gone, with those implicated in the invasion of Fiore apprehended, and the Magic Council reborn, the subsequent peace lulled most into a false sense of security. Rune recognized the comfort as a delusion. And not mistakenly, it seemed. In the three years that had passed since the war, Dark Guilds had begun grappling for power behind the scenes, the Legal Guilds were spread thin with rebuilding their demolished countries and while the Wizard Saints were powerful, they could not run a nation. The peace suddenly seemed insubstantial, slipping through her fingers like water.

Three years after his death and his name would still send prickles down any mage's spine. Three years later and Fiore was still contending with the aftermath of the war against Alvarez. Three years later and the mere mention of his existence would only bring calamity and despair.

She swallowed, the motion moving against a stone in the pit of her throat.

"The Black Wizard, the Immortal Emperor, Spriggan, the Doom of Mildian, the Sage of the Dry sea, it is all him." It was an almost painful effort to force the words out.

Wolfheim's face contorted into a kind of macabre grimace which Rune supposed was the closest thing to a smile he could manage. She couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe,  _couldn't breathe._

"It's Zeref."

She fretted in her uniform, as if it were a cage around her. Her rank, a choke chain around her neck. The tattoo on her back a branding, burning stigma of an oath of subjugation.

With shivering breath she continued. "He journeyed across the red desert of Desierto some four hundred years ago and helped the Bellans tame the creeks of raw ether that flowed through the land. He bore the face of a young man but had the eyes of a sage."

Wolfheim nodded approvingly at her knowledgeableness of her own people's lore, as if he did not take it for granted.

She struggled against all her instincts that told her to stand up and flee from the room. What horrible, wicked thoughts had been conceived in the King of Ishgar's head that could involve the vilest dark mage of all time? A fire ignited in her, an all-consuming, burning,  _living, breathing thing of magic_  because she could not, would not help him with his plans. She would not face those horrors ever again.

"I will not help you revive Zeref, Coucillor Wolfheim." She seethed. "Even if it means you will crush every bone in my body, I will not let you do it. This land cannot face the horrors of his existence ever again."

She thought of the countries in the eastern continent (3) —Isvan, Brago and many others —that had been ravaged by his beasts. Of the lives he had ruined with his experiments, Lullaby, the demons of Galuna Island. She thought of the poor people of Alvarez, who were brainwashed into thinking they were harbouring a  _god_  when they were harbouring a devil. She thought of the destruction he had brought upon Fiore just three years ago, throwing the country and its untried queen into a subsequent financial crisis as they struggled to rebuild everything from dust.

She thought of her brother.

Wolfheim chuckled. Rune's scarred fingers dug into her palms. He had the audacity to mock her.

"For a supposed genius, you sure jump to conclusions quickly, kid."

_What?_

Wolfheim's condescending choice of words were belied by the slow tensing of his frame. Nervousness crept on him like a stealthy assassin, concealed within the shadows the sunset cast upon the room.

"I only ask you to hear me out before you ask your questions, which I am sure there will be many."

He leaned across the table and his voice dropped to an almost conspirational pitch.

"Three years ago, Zeref vanished without trace within the guild hall of Fairy Tail. Not even the few members who had encountered him during the war witnessed his parting, which means we have no solid proof he is actually dead." The soldier's eyes widened and tightened quickly, her air of hostility switching into watchfulness.

"You believe Zeref is still alive?" she asked, unable to obey his previous request or mask the shock from her voice.

A frown marled the councillor's lips. "What I believe is that Makarov Dreyar would go to tremendous lengths to protect his ilk. Even if Zeref Dragneel's very own brother is amongst their ranks."

_Zeref Dragneel._

That name… the realization surged over her with such ferocity, she had to grapple at the armrests of her chair or it surely would've knocked her off her seat.

"I suppose you're familiar with the name."

Of course she knew that name. Everybody who followed the greatest tournament on the continent knew the bearer of this strange name. The fire mage who commanded the dragon's power. The one who put Sabertooth's twin dragons to shame, the one who barged in on the Grand Magic Games and single-handedly defeated all the competing guilds the next year.

_But how?_ Zeref was an immortal… this boy, Natsu Dragneel, could not be a day older than her. How was that even possible?

The Councillor patted another file and slid it across the desk for her. "I am sure you'll find answers to your questions inside. Our concern right now is the brother, not Zeref himself, as we have no intel on his status. On the other hand, we have a very good reason to believe he transferred his powers to his brother or left a demon's seed inside his body. Considering Makarov's smoke and mirrors, this might very well be the case."

Rune took the file from him and her brows knit together tightly. Guild masters rarely submitted mission reports to the Council, but when they did, they were always classified. Only generals of the army and Councillors had access to them. "I'm afraid I am bound by law not to –"

"Then I will make it an order, Erandel." This was not enough answer for her. Whatever shady business he was conducting to do prior research on her past and request her assistance, if he was to be exposed and fall, she had no intention to fall with him. As long as she was a soldier bound by military code, she could not be held accountable for anything he made her do.

"I need that written down, sir." A smirk crept onto Wolfheim's face, one she realized, was out of approval at her caution.

Good. Let him know she was not one to be deluded.

He waved at a Light Pen on his desk. It floated out of his container and jotted down the words of permission he spoke out loud. Then he grabbed the pen mid-air and used it to sign it manually and stamped it.

Once the paper rested safely inside the inner pocket of her jacket did she dare to open the mission report. Not exactly a mission report really, but more of a written war correspondence. It was short though, considerably so, less than ten pages, which Wolfheim gave her enough time to skim. He did not rush her while she read but she was painfully aware of his eyes burning into her the entire time, pinpointing every reaction on her face; every scowl and frown and every unguarded inhale of surprise.

When she finally looked up, she knew her face had blanched. She could not believe what was written in there —could not imagine what else Makarov Dreyar must have purposefully censored to protect the Dragon Slayer boy from harm. It was a miracle enough in itself that the Council did not take the boy into custody, just for  _existing_. To monitor his movements and test his abilities. It was unbelievable. Insane.

"What of the book?" was what she managed to say after a heavy silence. Her words sounded plumy and garbled, her voice so unlike her own, she could barely recognize it.

"It was destroyed when Zeref died."

"And yet the brother lives. Interesting."

" _Interesting_  is one way to put it." the Councillor said. "A piece of the puzzle is missing and it might end us all."

"Why wasn't he taken into custody? Or at least for an examination?"

"Because he's yet to be proven guilty." replied Wolfheim. "And he is a celebrated hero in Fiore with his face plastered on magazines, billboards and Lacryma screens. Not only we had no explicit reason to arrest him, it would have caused public unrest, not to mention further hostility and distrust towards the Council. To make matters worse, the young queen idolizes Makarov's vainglorious bunch of imbeciles and has them under her protective aegis. It would have been troublesome to say the least."

"But how are we certain he's innocent?"

"We have been monitoring the boy for the past three years. A twenty-four hour surveillance. No unusual behaviour has been recorded. But the devil never sleeps. Zeref waited for almost half a millennium to put his plan into action. A few more years are nothing to an immortal."

Rune's brows knit together tightly and she dropped her gaze to her scarred hands. If the boy was proven innocent, then why was the Council still concerned?

When she lifted her eyes to meet the Councillor's, his frown could have curdled new milk. He stared at her, hard, for several seconds, turning the Light Pen over in his fingers.

"Then why—"

"Our last spy turned up dead three days ago. But it wasn't the boy, who had killed him." he pulled out a crumpled note from a drawer.

On it a symbol of an eye was drawn in blood.

For a second, her heart stopped beating. Nausea flooded her and with it came a whirlwind of memories she tried desperately to forget. To bottle up and hide in a remote corner of her mind. But it seemed, some shadows of the past could never be rolled back.

"Ring a bell, Major?"

Rune replied quietly, glaring resolutely at the man. Of course,  _that_  is why he had chosen her.

"The ambiguities of my past do not determine my current merit as a soldier."

"Certainly. But they can prove to be useful assets in the future."

"What business do  _they_ have with Zeref's brother?" she murmured.

"That is exactly why you are sitting in that chair. Your expertise in Ether Theory, your peculiar magic and your knowledgeableness in the organization's workings make you the perfect candidate for the job."

"Which is..?"

"The infiltration of Fairy Tail." answered the man firmly.

Rune sucked in a breath.

He pushed another folder across the table. It was a thick one, full of dog-ears and worn notes, photographs and articles stapled to the pages. The folder was labelled 'FAIRY TAIL' in bold letters, containing its members in alphabetical order —all of their profiles and mission records scrupulously put together and illustrated with recent pictures, newspaper articles, and dotted with references to files of other mages, both of the legal and dark kind. A map of the guild hall was also included, as well as their  _ludicrous_ budget of the previous year amongst many other things.

"As you can see, you have all the information you need in here. Hopefully you will do a better job than your predecessors. You will report Natsu Dragneel's every move to me. Not to Councillor Neekis, not to Chairman Hyberion and definitely not to Councillor Sequen. Not to anyone, but me. You will find out how and why that boy is still breathing. You will become his shadow… no, you will become his  _friend_. Wherever the boy goes, you go. If he so much as takes a wrong breath, you will take the necessary measures. Understood?"

Rune nodded slowly, her words a contemplative drawl. "The book was quintessential to the Etherious' power, the boy's ether was one and the same as the book's. Therefore a fraction of the book might still exist, functioning as a lifeline for the boy."

The Councillor nodded. "Either that, or the demon had not been entirely confined by the book and some essence of it has resided within the boy's body since the get-go." Wolfheim subjected her to a riddle she did not even know how to approach. If only her brother had been here... "Even in death, Zeref does not do things halfway. He knew the book could be destroyed easily so he created a back-up plan, in case something went awry. The question is what that plan is and why." the hatred for the dark mage was dripping from his voice. Shame heated Rune's cheeks as she thought back to how she'd accused him of being involved in the dark arts.

But if Zeref had sought the absolution of death so desperately, and his wish was now granted… the demon was not needed any longer, not even for the Black Wizard's selfish plans, unless…

"We need to find a way to separate the demon from the boy and destroy it, before those lunatics can get their hands on him."

Wolfheim shook his head and Rune could swear she saw his nails lengthening into claws for a second before turning back to normal.

"I don't think you get my point, Major. I want the boy dead."

" _What?"_  she slammed her palms on his desk. "You want me to kill an innocent person? I am not a murderer, Councillor."

For the second time that day, Wolfheim paid no heed to her candid outburst.

"Based on your history, you might as well be."

Rune hissed, her words slow and deliberate. "Those days are over. And if you want to have a boy murdered in cold blood, you will have to find someone else to do it. You can wipe my memory all you want, sir."

He lifted a palm in a silent request for her to hear him out.

"Natsu Dragneel is a time bomb. As long as that boy lives, he is a threat to our world. Our hard-won peace. Even if it pains me to lose a wizard as prodigious as he, I will not risk the lives of millions for one person." He lifted his head towards the ceiling of his office and removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. His eyes were closed, his shoulders strained. Rune had never seen a Wizard Saint this vulnerable.

"Both Warrod and Makarov have been my friends for decades. And believe me, when I say it pains me to betray their sentiments like this. I know they love that boy fiercely. It pains me to order the dispatchment of an innocent person. But when I assumed this position, I knew there would be hard decisions to make. I knew I would sever friendships, make enemies and burn bridges along the way. But when it comes to this, there can only be one choice, no matter what consequences I have coming for me."

Rune gazed at her hands linked in her lap. She thought of her brother again. What would Oriel do? What was the best way out of this situation? Was there even a best way? What was the  _right_  thing to do?

"I cannot do it." she shook her head slowly, staring ahead with blank eyes. She could not let an innocent boy suffer for the sins he did not himself commit. Not again.

"That boy has been one foot in the grave for four hundred years. He is a one-of-a-kind of abomination. A demon, that is dragonifying. His existence is a grotesque odium that goes against the laws of nature." hissed the Councillor. "Use that head of yours and  _think_  —you joined the military to preserve peace. If that boy lives, he can bring about destruction almost apocalyptic in scale, far worse than anything you've experienced. It took generations for a king who would sign a treaty with Ishgar to ascend Pergrande's throne. But rest assured, the new king is no different from his predecessors. He wants to see this continent burn. And if Zeref's strongest demon is running amok over the land, he will no doubt seize the chance to use that temporary weakness for his own gain."

Rune's fingers curled into a fist. Her mother, her father, her brother —they had all died to make this world a better place. Their sacrifice would have been for nothing, if her indecision ended up being the catalyst to plunge it back into chaos again.

Wolfheim interrupted her contemplation with cold, cruel words. Cold, cruel eyes. "If that happens the entirety of Ishgar will become another Bellum. Swallowed by that empire. Being leeched off of. You should know better than anyone."

Rune shook her head. She could feel a hundred million Pergrandese breathing down her neck. She could feel the eyes of her people on her, dark and lifeless, like a moonless night. The eyes of very people who had died opposing their cruel reign.

She couldn't do this. She had to do this. She couldn't do this. She had to do this.  _She couldn't do this. She—_

And in the silence of the room, her words dropped like stones when she spoke again.

"You are right Councillor. There is no other way."

"I am glad you have come to see my angle." was his grim reply. "Once you find out how to destroy the boy and the demon as well, strike as quickly as you can. Leave no traces, make no mistakes."

"And in case I do?" she dared to ask, the corners of her lips turning upwards tightly.

"It would be a shame to leave a woman of your talents at the mercy of Fairy Tail. They really are a hell-roosting bunch of scrappers. They tend to be rather… vindictive when someone harms their kin." He stated. It was enough of an answer to know that would she slip up, the Councillors would turn their backs on her. Wolfheim would wash his hands of it all.

"Maybe Acnologia really is the herald of a new era." the councillor mused.

Rune's eyebrows shot up in confusion at his cryptic words.

"You are young and you might not see it yet, but new winds are blowing and the Wizarding World is changing. Will that change bring hope? Will it bring more calamity? Who knows. But slow currents had never shaped a rock and those who can withstand the storm will determine the future. You, Erandel, have a great chance of becoming one of those people."

"Is that what I get out of killing someone? Becoming a  _hero_? I think we have rather conflicting views on what heroism means, sir."

The Councillor leaned contentedly back in his chair, looking down at her through his glasses, seeming somewhat uplifted by her cynicism.

"No. But you will get what you've always wanted.  _Freedom."_

_Freedom._

A word she had not let herself consider in a long time. Not since her brother's death. If she succeeds, she would cease to be tied to the Council, the debt to her people and her brother paid. If she fails, she'd be dead. Either way, she would be free.

_In the end, was there anything to lose?_

"I want my friends relieved from their duties as well. You already know who they are." she stated, each word smarting like frostbite.

"Very well. All of you will be able to leave the ranks without being pronounced a deserter."

He stood and extended a hand for her to shake, a strange gesture to offer to a lower-ranking military officer. "What of your end of the deal?"

"Consider it done." Rune shook his hand.

Then she turned and left the palace.

She did not realize when it had become so dark. The night was moonless, starless, depthless.

And soon, the very last bud of Zeref's dark magic would be wiped from this world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annotations:
> 
> (1) OMPF: Official Military Personnel File
> 
> (2) KIA: Killed in Action (tbh I can only hope that I'm using military jargon correctly. Especially in a foreign language.)
> 
> (3) The location of Gray's hometown was stated to be in an entirely different country from Fiore, that is somewhere in the east. (In canon Ur said something along the lines of "There are many good guilds in the countries to the west.")  
> The town itself is never named, only the vague area is called the "Land of Isvan" in the story, which is either a province in one of the known countries in Ishgar (either Pergrande or Iceberg, out of which the latter seems more possible, given the name) or a whole different country in itself, that is not in Ishgar. Through my very limited knowledge of geography, I deduced that a country with a location like Iceberg's (pretty much the same as Germany or Poland in our world) cannot have the kind of climate Gray's country had. He could hail from Pergrande, but I highly doubt that Deliora could reduce such a huge place to shambles and it was stated that Gray's entire country was destroyed. (Also, for **plot** reasons, I cannot have him being Pergrandese lol.) 
> 
> TL;DR I came to the conclusion, that Gray, Lyon, Ur, Silver, Ultear and Lyon's gang came from a country that is on a continent east of Ishgar and east of Pergrande, which is either southern Giltena (as Giltena seems to be connected to the Ishgaran mainland somewhere in the north) or a completely different continent. I stuck with the latter. So, this means that in this story, our favourite Ice Wizards are from a whole other country and a whole other continent. That explains why they have pretty similar features (except for Lyon, who strangely enough, looks a lot like Invel, but that is a whole different story, anyway.)
> 
> \-- --
> 
> A/N:  
> Ha! Pretty confusing, right?
> 
> As you can see, there is a lot of mishmash and misinformation and I am taking many liberties with this story. And while not all of Rune's and Wolfheim's assumptions about Natsu are true, some just might be. I believe some points of the manga's epilogue need to be addressed and explored, and that is what I intend to do in this story. Natsu's Deus ex Mashima transformation into human again is one of those things.
> 
> So, in conclusion, I know things are very confusing right now, but bear with me, most things will become clear once the story starts to pick up. Or at least I damn well hope so lol.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Look who's back from the dead! Sorry for the late, late, late update guys (if you're still here). I've been super busy with school and my private life hasn't been very kind to me either, but if it is any consolation (and I hope it is), this chapter is super long. Like massive. Like huge blocks of text kind of massive. Almost twelve-thousand words, can you believe it? As usual, I'm terribly sorry for any grammar, spelling or punctuation errors that may occur, I'm not a native speaker. We'll talk at the end of the chapter, enjoy!

 

* * *

## Card One: The Burning Tower

## Scene III. 

* * *

Jellal Fernandes has been playing cat and mouse with the Magic Council for almost as long as he could remember. Surely, the roles had been reversed a few times over the years but he was starting to believe that for better or worse, he had no permanent way of shaking the white-robed soldiers off his tail.

After he'd been pardoned for his crimes by the Queen, he'd deluded himself into thinking it was over. That they'd reached an unspoken truce. He hoped that as long as he didn't get in their way, they would not get in his.

How wrong he had been.

He and his guild had been caught unawares by the Council-issued letter that waited for them at their guild's doorstep three days ago. The wax seal bearing the dreaded crux ansata had triggered some kind of primordial reflex in Jellal's guildmates, and with it, the last semblance of order within Crime Sorciere collapsed as well.

Sawyer and Macbeth practically fled to mop up some godforsaken town near Mount Hakobe, while Erik and Meredy straight-out told him he was too much of a fusspot to stay under the same roof with. Well this, and that there was no way on Earthland they would stay in Crocus when a group of Rune Knights could barge in on them at any time.

 _A bunch of hypocrites, that's what they are_ , thought Jellal, wishing he could believe it.

But he supposed his guildmates' fears were not misplaced after all they had suffered at the Council's hands, even if they had no reason to arrest them this time round.

As a former Councillor, Jellal had familiarised himself with the laws of the Wizarding World like no other Guild Master. He knew they had broken no laws, had all their papers in order, paid their taxes without delay and to the extent of Jellal's knowledge, no complaint had been filed against them ever since they'd gone legal. Ironically, their most suspicious act to date was all of Crime Sorciere's members scattering with their tails between their legs the very day the first summon from the Council arrives.

But Jellal also knew the Council was fond of framing innocent scapegoats in show-trials. If that ended up being the case, nobody, not even Hisui Fiore would care two straws if some stray ex-cons were found guilty for some crime they did not commit.

Jellal would have chuckled but admittedly,  _was_  at his wit's end himself. He had taken to tossing and turning at night and pacing his chambers like a caged beast during the day.

He was no longer on the wrong side of the law and he supposed that meant he had to answer to higher summons, whether he liked it or not. He could hardly blame Erik and Meredy for calling him out on his behaviour, hypocrites they were or not.

Even though it surely would have eased his nerves a bit, he opted not to call Erza. Not until he knew what the Council wanted of him at least. She needn't worry as well, she had more than enough on her plate with that wild goose chase of a Hundred Year Quest.

Thinking about Erza made his chest swell with a certain type of buoying gravity. His stride became more deliberate too. The memory of her fragrant hair against his face and the caress of her battleworn fingers reignited his courage as he walked into the Council Headquarters for the first time in almost ten years.

Two toad guards had been waiting for him at the gates. One ham-fisted and bumbling, the other skinny and sharp-tongued.

It did not come as a surprise either when they bound his wrists in Sealing Stone. After years of slavery and imprisonment, Jellal Fernandes supposed he had grown accustomed to being escorted everywhere in shackles and at sword-point.

No 'funny business', they had croaked simply in an unprompted explanation. Jellal made no enquiry. They probably would not be able to answer and he would find out soon enough anyway.

They'd gripped his arms as they led him through the shining building. They strode down labyrinthine corridors, up flights of stairs, and around and around and around until he hadn't the slightest chance of finding his way out again.

Or at least that was their intention. Jellal did not fail to notice when they went up and down the same winding staircase. Nor had he missed when they passed the same gazeless statue twice within a matter of minutes, or zigzagged between the same hallways. They gave him too little credit, as if he'd lose his bearings that easily. He would have been insulted if these toads weren't trying so hard.

At last they reached a door barred with  _Jutsu Shiki_. The magical runes flickered to life once the thin one pressed a membranous hand against it.

A lavish room greeted him inside, furnished in beige and marble and gold, not much unlike their old meeting room when he had been Siegrain a lifetime ago.

The wall on the right side contained another barred door, but the left side of the room was open to the world beyond, sheer curtains fluttering from the heavy summer breeze that blew inside. Deep-cushioned sofas and a circular table laden with refreshments sat in the centre, the walls bedecked in paintings and tapestry. The building had been destroyed and rebuilt twice over in Jellal's time, yet barely anything had changed here.

 _At least it's not another cell…_ he thought dryly.

_Yet._

Suddenly the other door opened and Jellal pivoted on his heels to see a middle-aged woman attired in modest grey robes stroll into the room with three others at her heels. Wizards, no doubt, judging by sudden shift in the room's ether. Two of them lacked the usual garb of Rune Knights, while the third one was armed to the teeth, his chestplate bearing a golden crux ansata. A general of the army.

The middle-aged woman's dirty blonde hair was tied into a narrow plait and she stood as tall as Jellal himself, but she was long and thin, almost boyish in her physique. She had an aquiline face, all edges and angles, converging at her nose, almost a splitting image of her older sister.

Jellal had met Ginevra Belno in passing when he had been Siegrain. She'd been a Wizard Saint and an instructor at the Academy of Sinclair unlike the Belno he knew from the Council. This one only affiliated herself with the Council after her sister's untimely demise at the hands of Tartaros, to carry out her will. She brought with her an air of gravity her late sister seemed to lack, which unsettled, rather than impressed him.

"Jellal Fernandes." she greeted simply.

"Councillor Belno." he nodded back. With that, his Sealing Stone shackles opened and clattered to the ground.

Jellal blinked, almost in surprise.

 _The Jutsu Shiki… it must have been that,_ he concluded.

As they seated themselves, he scanned the Councillor's entourage, searching for clues of who they could were and how they could be defeated.

Two men and a woman, around his age, and either powerful or stupid enough to think they can protect the Councillor from Jellal with his wrists unbound, in case the need to fight arose. Judging by their looks, the woman and the armoured male were southerners, immigrants from Caelum or Desierto.

The young woman was clad in a flowing slip dress, cut a bit too low on the chest and too high on the legs, but its rosy colour complemented her dark skin and even darker hair well. She wasn't the scarlet-haired goddess of Jellal's dreams, but she could very well be Erza's equal in the eyes of other men.

Next to her sat a tall and lean, bespectacled man, who struck Jellal as being a quiet, diligent person. He seemed to be the oldest of the three, probably older than Jellal himself. His maroon hair was at odds with his clothes. While his white robes were immaculately pressed, his messy hair almost entirely covered the eerie eyes he assessed Jellal with —one brown and one ice blue.

The armoured general, or maybe he was one of the statues from the hallway come alive, Jellal wouldn't know, smiled at Jellal good-naturedly as he took a seat next to him. And what a sight the man made! Broad-shouldered with brown hair neatly combed to one side, sun-kissed skin and sharp jawline, only offset by a peculiar pair of tangerine eyes. Old man Rob had weaved fairy tales about heroes in their cell at the Tower, and a young, starry-eyed Jellal molded them into colourful fantasies from the dank darkness. In his mind, the heroes had all been fashioned to look just like this man.

The Councillor leaned back against the cushions, taking a sip from a glass of wine she grabbed from the table. Her dark, birdlike eyes considered Jellal with careful attentiveness.

"The last time I saw you, you were a just boy. Brilliant and handsome, the pride and joy of the Academy, with a mind always at work behind that cutting smile." she spoke inflectionlessly. "But look at you, you're almost a man now. Except for your eyes... Such pathetic, sad things."

Jellal frowned, contemplating her words.  _Maybe that is what happens to all children who are enslaved and left to die._

But the Councillor's words cut deeper than he was willing to admit, a truth he so desperately tried to ignore.

That starry-eyed boy he had been, when did he die? When did the constellations in his eyes dissolve into darkness?

Was it the day Ultear enslaved his mind? Or when he'd killed Simon and unleashed Etherion, watching,  _laughing_ as Ultear collapsed a building on hundreds of innocents? Was it when he plunged into the sea and was washed clean from his memories and past self, but the stain of his sins never cleaned away? Or was it through his calvary of self-discovery in the woods of Nirvana? He had been his own undoing just as much as the cruelty of the world had. Someplace along the way he had killed that naive boy who dared to dream of fairy tales in a world full of nightmares. He'd gutted him and gouged his starry eyes out until nothing recognisable remained.

And what was left now?

The Councillor's voice yanked him back into reality. "I heard you're a Guild Master now. Tucked away in some hole-in-the-wall tavern in Crocus with the scraps of the Balam Alliance and liberating towns terrorized by Dark Guilds all across Fiore. How noble of you."

Jellal leaned back in his seat, impassive, trying to channel whatever was left of Siegrain inside him. He didn't know how much of his alter-ego's personality originated from Ultear and how much of it was his own —nevertheless, Siegrain would have acted nonchalant, pleasant even. Jellal's insides, however, twisted in anxiousness.

"You almost sound as if you disapprove of our activities." he replied neutrally. A veiled question, searching for the Councillor's buttons.

"On the contrary. I am intrigued." said the woman with a knowing smile. "I believe we could prove… useful to each other."

"I suppose you didn't bring me here to talk about my guild's finances after all, right Councillor?" he joked pleasantly, the way Siegrain would've. His smile remained limited to his mouth however, unsure of what would happen next, wary of being drawn into a conversation he was not yet ready for.

"As delighted as I would be to discuss such mundane matters, I'm afraid we have a more …  _pressing_  issue to discuss." her words dropped like stones. "But first I need you to promise that whatever will transpire will not leave this room. You cannot tell anyone about it. Not your guildmates, or anyone else."

"Do I have much of a choice?" he asked. He was more than sure the Jutsu Shiki that barricaded the room already entailed that much.

"Not really. The runes prevent you from telling anyone, but a formality was in order."

Jellal crossed his legs, letting out a chuckle. A smart move, manipulation with Jutsu Shiki had always been the Council's forte and even wizards of his calibre prone to falling for it. "Why am I here then?"

"The Wizarding World is in tatters. The war against Alvarez left some borders ambiguous. Fiore, Bosco, Caelum and the entire western coast of Ishgar are in shambles. Dark Guilds have been restless and clawing at each other to make use of the vacancy Zeref's and Acnologia's deaths have left behind."

Jellal nodded slowly. "That is to be expected." Indeed, in the three years that have passed since the peace treaty between Ishgar and Alvarez has been signed, Dark Guilds have sprung up like mushrooms after rain in the western countries of the continent. Pull one out and five others respawn in its place. "I daresay it's more ideal even. Better to have a leader to keep them in line and a hierarchy to fit into."

"What a strange insight..." Belno wondered.

"Maybe it takes a criminal's mind to understand another's." shrugged Jellal with the corners of his mouth upturned into a sad smile. He couldn't help the bitterness that grabbed him at the thought that he had once been one of them. Worse even.

The woman sighed, a sound of such long, long suffering. "I will skip to the point. We brought you here because we need your help."

"Oh?" Jellal lifted his chin at that, mentally patting himself on the back for sounding as disinterested as he did. The Council would make allies with a former criminal who outwitted them not once but twice? And they were even willing to admit it? Maybe some things did change here after all... "Of what sort?"

"I don't know whether your motivations stem from a selfish desire to atone for your sins or from a genuine desire to see this world a better place, bereft of Dark Guilds and criminals, but nevertheless, the engineering behind it is undeniable and admirable." the woman admitted, her eyes pressing down on him firmly.  
"Loath as I am to admit, but your guild has been making far better progress at eradicating Dark Guilds in Fiore than we have. Bosco has always had a hefty crime rate, but the increase in crime in Fiore and Caelum are unprecedented and the number of newly reported Dark Guilds is alarming. We did not see such an increase after the Cambrian War fifteen years ago and we fear there might be an underlying cause that is not directly related to the war. Something links all these new guilds and criminals together and we want to find out what it is."

"Organized crime that stretches beyond individual guilds?" asked Jellal, green eyes hard. "Not surprising and nothing we haven't seen before. The Balam Alliance has been destroyed years ago, courtesy of Fairy Tail. As I said, something was bound to fill its place, later rather than sooner it seems. In any case, all of Crime Sorciere's resources are at the Council's disposal. We would be glad to provide any help, if that is what the Council wishes."

A lie. He wanted nothing more than to be out of here. Until the Magic Council returned to being nothing but a small itch, bothersome but harmless, pestering him about taxes and mission reports, but not this, whatever  _this_ was shaping up to be.

Belno waved dismissively. "There's no need for that. I'm afraid the matter at hand demands more effort than just allying ourselves with a group of about-faced ex-criminals."

Jellal did not respond to the veiled jab. He let his lips press into a line, and he waited for the woman to continue.

But Belno noticed Jellal's displeasure.

"I'll rephrase it then." she offered. "Crime Sorciere is a Legal Guild now, and as such, it has earned itself more than enough fear and fame in the underworld. If they knew who you and your guildmates were as criminals, they know you thrice-over now that you are legal wizards. You must have noticed that they've started keeping tabs on you. Following you around, predicting your moves."

"More often than not, unfortunately." he replied honestly. They had been incomparably more efficient at their job when they walked that fine, twilit zone between Legal and Dark Guilds.

"They have been predicting the Council's moves  _for decades._ Even though we might have the numbers, our hands are even more tied than you'd think. News of alliance between your guild and the Magic Council, whether secret or public, would spread like wildfire."

That much was true and Jellal knew it. But that didn't mean they had no chance of defeating them if they tried.

"As much as I remember, the alliance of Fairy Tail, Blue Pegasus and Lamia Scale had no trouble defeating Oracion Seis when they tried to obtain Nirvana." another lie, a story the Councillor must have known well enough from Jura's tales, now that they were working together. But Jellal continued nevertheless. "And Fairy Tail managed to scrape the other two members of the Balam Alliance off the board by themselves. An alliance of Legal Guilds against an alliance of dark ones. A bit orthodox, but it has shown to work."

"Except that theirs isn't a loosely-bound alliance this time. It is an army." for the first time, a different voice replied, heavily-accented, laden with lyrical vowels only the Caelish could pronounce.

Jellal jolted his head to the armoured general seated next to him. None of the previous conviviality remained the man's face, all of it replaced by a frown.

_What on Earthland did he just say?_

"We believe they are planning a coup, or a series of coups to be more exact. Fiore is the weakest piece right now, but it's only the start. Shoot the horse in the leg and its rider would soon be at your mercy."

It took him a few moments to process the words. Just as him and his guildmates had feared. Dark Guilds were not only growing in number but while they tore at each other's throats in an attempt to spit out a new leader from their ranks, they were becoming more militant. More organised. More powerful. With Zeref, their the semi-mythological figure of worship gone, Dark Wizards refocused on more… earthly matters — like overthrowing governments and waging anarchy over Ishgar. Jellal wasn't sure he preferred these ones to the sort who had been obsessed with One Magic and immortality.

Finally, he gathered himself and spoke. "Do you mean…?"

"Yes. General Brighthorn means that our greatest fear is that they are planning a coup against the Council and wish take over ruling the Wizarding World themselves." cut in the Councillor, clasping her hands in her lap, a damask of worry draped over her face.

Jellal heaved a drawn-out sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in contemplation. Just what the hell had he gotten himself into again?

He poured himself a glass of wine. He wasn't sure he could handle all of this without a drink.

"What do you propose we do?"

"The best course of action is to weed out the source root and stem, before the disease becomes too much for us to handle." said General Brighthorn. "But not with an army of our own. As Councillor Belno said, some Dark Guilds are experts at predicting our moves. By the time we decide to strike, they've already hopped the twig. Another problem is that Rune Knights don't pose a threat to many guild wizards, if anyone, you should know better than most. Even if we do manage to outnumber them, which I highly doubt, a Dark Mage equates to a dozen Rune Knights in power. If not more. A more… how did you put it…  _unorthodox_  method is required this time."

"Divide and conquer it is then?" Jellal smirked but all the bells in his mind tolled in alarm.

This was something he once would have been suited for. But now... "How do I come into the picture?"

"There is a vacancy in the Council's Special Operations Squad that needs to be filled." announced Belno without further ado. Something snapped into place in Jellal's mind as he looked back at the three young wizards.

Of course, that is what that palpable shift in ether had been. That is why they did not care about Jellal's unrestrained hands and magic.

These three were no ordinary wizards.

_Unorthodox methods, huh?_

"I...I thought the Special Ops was an urban legend." He'd sensed the stammer, ready to pounce, so he hid his surprise behind his glass of wine. In his years of being a Councillor and a Wizard Saint, he had never caught wind of anything that could suggest the existence of such a division.

"Most of us thought  _Etherion_  was an urban legend too." countered the dark-skinned young woman with the accent of Desiertans, spitting the word like it was a curse. The look she shot him radiated such venom, such hatred, that Jellal was forced to avert his eyes.

"Lysandra." warned the Councillor.

"I will not work together with this man." said the woman named Lysandra in a slow, deliberate tone.

"Yes, you will." ordered the Councillor. "There are great wheels in motion and tension within the team could cause a disaster. We need you disciplined and not acting like some child throwing a tantrum."

The young woman's brown eyes blazed aflame, her fury growing… and growing… and growing.

"Councillor, if you think you can replace someone just like that, you're wrong. Especially not with Jellal Fernandes, a traitor twice-over. (1)" Lysandra hissed.

"Anyone can be replaced, Lysandra." said Belno calmly and something told Jellal she wasn't simply talking to the girl about a previous member he was to replace. Ginevra Belno's very own sister used to occupy her seat at the Council.

"You seem to forget that this man fired Etherion and destroyed the Council."

" _Lysandra_ ," thundered the General. "This day's been bad enough, no need to dredge up old miseries as well."

The woman's eyes narrowed. She was visibly bristling beneath her skin, nursing her ire uncomfortably, but she seemed to swallow her reply at last.

Jellal glanced between them, confused and desperately wishing he were elsewhere. This was a story for another time, perhaps…  _if_  he ever came into a position to ask. Judging by the glare Lysandra nailed him with, he reconsidered if it was better to let sleeping dogs lie.

"Castor, has your research been fruitful?" asked Belno from the man with the mismatched eyes, changing the subject casually, refusing to nurture the dark-skinned woman's fit of anger with any more attention.

"My intel is ready to meet us in Hargeon the day after tomorrow." spoke the tall, maroon-haired man for the first time. The tension coiled, thick as honey in the room, but the man's tone remained calm and measured.

"Splendid. Then that's where you'll go." Councillor Belno replied. Then she turned to the armoured man seated next to him. "Algar, please fill our newcomer in on all the information he needs."

"Why are so sure I will work together with you?" cut in Jellal before the General could respond. The woman only smiled that knowing smile from before.

"Let's just say I know that look in your eyes well enough. You are not a man given to begging for forgiveness, but I also know a good heart is not prone to settling until things are set right and true. I am offering you a chance of absolution, if you are willing to take it. One who had once been a criminal will never be remembered for his good deeds, no matter how much they outnumber his crimes, but I can give you an opportunity to forgive yourself at the very least. Even if history books will not."

Jellal could not counter this with a suitable reply. He was taken aback by the Councillor's trust, especially after her subordinate's show of the polar opposite. Perhaps Erza was ready to forgive him, but he could not find it in himself to make peace with himself just yet. And if it took him hundreds,  _thousands_  of eradicated Dark Guilds to feel worthy of happiness, then so be it.

The room was silent, three pairs of eyes trained on Jellal in breathless anticipation. He sighed, the tension from his shoulders diffusing slowly, like someone letting air out of a balloon.

"Very well. I'm in." he nodded in agreement. "It is in our common interest to expose and defeat this new enemy."

Belno was right. There were great wheels in motion and thwarting the Council's plans would only result in more chaos. Not that he had much of a choice anyway —any form of resistance on Jellal's part would arouse suspicion and he really,  _really_  didn't wish to go back to prison.

"Excellent." Belno bowed her head in acceptance.

Something told Jellal this was a pivotal moment, whether for the better or for worse, he didn't know. Nothing would be the same after this.

"Welcome to the Magic Council's Special Operations Squad, Jellal Fernandes."

* * *

Whatever sense of caution the Council had expressed when the two toads escorted him to the meeting room dissipated completely as the three wizards accompanied Jellal to his new quarters. The members of the Special Operations Squad did not mind if Jellal knew where they were going or memorised the route. He supposed they did not need caution because they  _were_  the caution themselves.

Their trek was a silent one. It led them through the Boscan Gardens, something else that hadn't changed much since Jellal had last been here. A lush, gloomy speck of wood, so starkly different from the immaculately clipped blocks and globes of rose-bushes and cypresses that made up the rest of the palace's gardens.

Lysandra was still fit to be tied, Jellal had already concluded that Castor was a man of few words and the General seemed to be contemplating something Jellal did not wish to poke his nose into, his fingers nervously playing about the eagle-shaped pommel of his sword. Jellal took it as an opportunity to assess this mess he had gotten himself into and make sense of the myriads of thoughts running through his head.

What should he tell Meredy? And Erza? What  _could_ he tell them?

He would be staying with these strangers for an indefinite amount of time, he had to tell them  _something._ But that something just couldn't be the truth, could it?

Not that Erza or Meredy would be unable to protect this secret, no. Even if could find his way around the rules of the Jutsu Shiki somehow, Belno would probably realise he'd gone back on his word and ratted them out to an outsider… Well, in that case, he was sure the Council had a special kind of cell somewhere that was solely reserved for Jellal Fernandes.

But what if something happened while he was gone? Could he trust Meredy to take matters into her own hands? What if something happened  _to him_? What would become of Crime Sorciere then? Those misfits had grown to need him just as much as he needed them, especially after Sorano and Richard left to walk their own paths. This was a dangerous situation he'd gotten himself into and chances were that he would never meet his guildmates —or Erza —again. He didn't want to think about either possibility.

That is when Lysandra decided to speak.

"Jellal Fernandes… What a strange journey you've had..."

She'd stopped in the middle of the paved pathway, head bowed, fists clenched at her sides.

"Lysandra," bit out the General in warning, just like before. The woman ignored her and solely focused her gaze on Jellal.

"Wizard Saint at the age of eighteen, the youngest in history. Councillor. Criminal. Fugitive. And now a Guild Master, hunting Dark Guilds who would've been your allies back in the day. Drifting from one side to another, doing whatever pleases you and somehow always slipping away from justice."

Jellal casted around for a suitable expression, some face to mask his frustration, and his shame, but finding nothing adequate, settled on a tight frown.

Lysandra took a step toward him. "I wonder if you remember the day Etherion was fired."

Jellal's hands curled into fists. "My memory seems to fail me."

"Oh, right. Sorry, I was tactless." she mocked, brown eyes brimming with contempt. "Partial amnesia must have been a  _very_ convenient thing to have during your trial."

Jellal had never really considered that aspect of it. Maybe they all thought he'd been faking the memory-loss to get a lighter sentence.

Lysandra went on: "I do remember though. I was just a girl when it happened. A pillar of light belched upward and the whole city stopped to stare. It was so blinding I thought it might pierce the sky. People were screaming that it was some kind of reckoning, some kind of divine punishment. Then the Council collapsed… I thought it was the end of the world."

Sometimes Jellal wished it had been. That Etherion had dissolved him and the whole world into nothingness.

But he had not been ready for what the woman said next. Her words grew low and dangerous. Some kind of old malice boiled like thunderheads over them, an oncoming storm. "Tell me, how do you live with yourself? How do you sleep at night, knowing that you and Ultear let so many innocents die that day?"

He had no excuse to soften the stab of her words with. She twisted the knife with every word, every syllable and Jellal did not contend. He had been forgiven by Erza, pardoned by the queen, but in that moment, Lysandra's words felt like well-deserved punishment. Like justice.

The silence grew long and heavy, syrupy-thick enough to hang transfixed in the air until Jellal rekindled his courage. He wore Simon's —and all the others' he indirectly caused —death like a scar on his heart, something ugly and white and gnarled that would never, ever go away. He tried desperately to search for the last vestiges of Siegrain inside him, to take the Lysandra's words with dignity. Eventually he only heaved a sigh, tainted with a hurt that was tattooed on his soul.

"I received the greatest punishment for my crimes. Staying alive to shoulder the weight of them all."

For a fraction of a heartbeat Lysandra's eyes went wide at Jellal's small token of honesty. Or maybe he only imagined it, as a second later her face fissured into blind rage, but her words were like ice.

"Let me make something abundantly clear, Jellal Fernandes. You are a murderer, a lodestone for death and destruction. I don't care if you regret it, I don't care if you don't remember it and I certainly don't care if the Queen of Fiore or Councillor Hyberion or bloody Ankhseram himself pardoned you for it, you will always be a murderer. And it will be a cold day in hell if I work together with you. Belno thinks we need you, but you will never be one of us. Don't forget that."

With that, she pivoted on her heels and stormed away, her gauzy skirts and her anger billowing around her.

Jellal stood there, stunned into silence. Castor and Algar watched in with guarded expressions, the lines of tension from their frames diffused slowly.

"She'll come around." said the General in a half-hearted attempt to unburden him. "She can be a bit... _scarce_  of temper, but she's a great mind and an even better wizard. She can be reasoned with. Besides," he smiled almost ruefully. "We all have some skeletons in our closets."

Jellal nodded, appreciative of Algar's thoughtfulness. He felt like every time he tried to lock that figurative closed, those skeletons tumbled out and threatened to crush him beneath their weight.

That night he slept fitfully, battling his way in and out of sleep in an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar bed, dreaming of killing a starry-eyed boy over and over again.

* * *

Although he was sure the pain would have woken him eventually, it was the sunlight that actually did. Gray awoke slowly, filtering through the stages of sleep the way a deep-dwelling fish floats lazily towards a halocline. He blinked against the blaze in reflex, the remnants of a dream, like sticky pollen, lingering in the back of his mind.

He attempted to sit. A bloody foolish decision really.

Pain, excruciating and visceral, exploded in his head. He moaned, falling back onto the bed, palming the damp hair above his frontal bone, where the sensation's epicentre seemed to rest. The pain was a swollen mess inside his head. It felt like a constructive interference of all his past hangovers which for some reason decided to manifest all at once. It felt like his brain was bleeding. He wanted to go back to sleep, to curl in on himself and close his eyes for a bit.

No, not sleep. Just wait for somebody to come and put a hand over his eyes. The way his mother did when he was a kid. Maybe Juvia would do it with her soft, gentle hands. Would Juvia read to him like his mother had once, while she covered his eyes? A bedtime story about dragons and knights and princesses from his favourite book—

_The book._

Gray's eyes shot open. The final dregs of sleep fell away in that tenth of a frozen heartbeat, as all the images clamoured for space inside his brain. The horror rose like indigestion, a tightening of his chest. His lungs were suddenly unable to move against the heaviness of his ribs.

An ambush. A hooded figure.  _All those people dead_...

Then darkness.

Just what the hell happened? Surely, the pain was proof enough that he was, in fact, alive, but... How long had he been out? And where the hell was he? Had he been taken? Kidnapped? Torn from his teammates' side?

 _Damnation_ , he pressed at his eyeballs with hands,  _just what the fuck is going on?_

His mouth felt like a scorpion's nest and the pounding in his skull like the Lacryma-engine's in an ether-fuelled four-wheeler. He'd been stripped of his shirt and wrapped in bandages, his wounds tended to. Accepting his condemnation to being bedridden until his headache subsided, he huffed out a sigh.

"You're awake, Fullbuster." came a stern voice. "Good. I was just about to beat you into consciousness."

_That voice…_

"Charming as always, Lady Porlyusica." he groaned into his pillow. It muffled the intended sarcasm out of his tone.

If the old hag was here, then this could only mean…

"Is this the infirmary?" he rolled onto his back, groaning. The world was spinning like he'd been hit by the Lamia Scale Guild Mistress' magic, and the sunlight bleached the room so bright, he could barely make out his surroundings. He'd been to Porlyusica's woodland hovel countless times, especially during the year-long disbandment of Fairy Tail, and this wasn't it: the acrid tang of dried herbs and foreign spices was absent here.

"No, this is hell. You're dead." the pink-haired lady deadpanned, finally appearing in his vision, stone-cold face matching her tone as she leaned over him to press her palm against his forehead.

Gray snorted but swallowed all the unintelligent replies that came to mind.

"You should be glad, you're one lucky fellow. Either that or you've got a really thick head on your shoulders. Considering that you're a member of this guild, it's likely the latter."

"Pot to kettle, Lady." he mumbled. "Just what the hell happened? How did I get here? Last thing I remember is that masked bastard with those weird spells and weird eyes, and then the—"

"You suffered trauma to your head. Your teammates dragged your half-dead ass back to the guild. You should be  _very_ thankful to young Wendy though. Without her, there's a chance you wouldn't have made it."

Gray blinked as if he'd been struck.

"How long was I out?" he asked tentatively. Porlyusica shuffled over to somewhere he couldn't see, the clinking of her tools filled the room as she proceeded to unpack her medical kit.

"Almost a day, I'd say." she replied. "I had Bixlow use his eyes on you, strangely there was no bleeding at all."

Gray's eyes couldn't be. The most severe and well-aimed blows could merely knock a man of his size out for a few of minutes at most without causing permanent brain damage.

He could've— no, he  _should have_  died. Just what the hell happened?

When Porlyusica reappeared next to his bed, Gray was stunned to see a frown etched into her usually inscrutable features. He didn't want to dwell on what it could have meant, and Porlyusica, always a woman of few words, opted to keep her silence this time as well. He was glad for it.

Gnarled fingers worked his bandages in silence. Gray had struggled himself up into a half-sitting position in a ridiculous show of peristalsis, staring out the window blankly. He'd almost forgotten about the gash that marred the skin of his shoulder, courtesy of the gang leader he'd fought in that alley. He could barely recall his face now, merely the way it swelled— all bloated and crimson before it burst, like an overripe cherry, and the ghastly husk that remained after the combustion.

_Dead. Dead. Dead._

And here he was, alive and spared while others around him were butchered like livestock. When he closed his eyes, a flash of a burning city appeared behind his eyelids, a bloodcurdling roar, a bleeding sky. For a moment fear so primordial gripped him, he thought it might take his breath away.

Alive and spared. Not for the first time.

Suddenly he smelled the savoury stench of cooking flesh again. Nausea, acrid and eviscerating assailed him with a violent force and Porlyusica was just able to shove a bucket in his lap before he threw up.

By the time he finished, exhausted to the bone, tears and vomit running down his face, he could only think about how pathetic and disgusting he must have looked. Thankfully Porlyusica made no mention of it. Silence was her own form of gentleness.

She provided him with a glass of water and tissues to clean up with. She did not attempt to touch him while he did.

He didn't throw up again after that. Porlyusica examined his reflexes and motor functions and recorded his anamnesis. She'd been tentative at first but turned more prodding with her questions, easing Gray into the debriefing. She was bothersome but mercifully evasive of the topic of the dead thugs, which only could have meant she'd already been filled in on what happened on their mission.

Muffled arguing from outside the door of the infirmary broke them off.

"But, Erza, what if he's—" the male voice, which Gray belatedly recognised as Natsu's, sounded uncharacteristically high-pitched and fretful and… worried. A second later the door opened and Lucy's golden head poked inside, the rest of his teammates, like a gaggle, piling inside tumultuously as well. Lucy's expressive eyes landed on him and immediately she was at his bedside, clutching at his hand desperately, as though any moment he would disappear and be lost to them again, leaving the team splintered, missing one of its legs like some wretched cripple.

"Bless the stars." she said through her bug-eyed terror ineloquently. Her words bumbled out heavily, in a voice wet with unshed tears. Erza sat down at the foot of his bed and Natsu pulled up a chair to straddle. A ball of fur —Happy — propelled into his chest, wailing and clawing at his skin.

The four of them donned clean clothes and had already been patched up, though they could've hardly looked any worse, as if they'd been dragged through hell and back; all woeful eyes and weathered contenance, bereft of the last scraps of Fairy Tail pride. Even Natsu's bred-in-the-bone cheerful demeanour was eclipsed by a frown.

"We were so scared, Gray… when you dropped down like… and when you didn't wake up…" Lucy choked through sobs. "We thought… I mean we hoped you wouldn't… but what if you did and we were there and we couldn't…" Natsu put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and she lifted her other hand to grasp it, the one clutching Gray's unmoving.

It was Erza who spoke then, taking the burden from her friend. "You gave us quite the scare. But we're glad you're okay."

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't pull stunts like that again." Natsu grunted, but there were dark circles under his hooded eyes, his skin pale and vaxen and the realisation knocked the air out of Gray's lungs.

He hadn't been sleeping. On a second note, none of them had.

He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. The five of them hadn't looked this miserable in quite some time.

Gray smiled, too weak to argue that it wasn't his choice to get knocked out this time. "Yeah, sorry. I hope you kicked him into tomorrow for me."

Lucy's smile vanished as she began chewing her lower lip like she always did when she felt nervous. Erza's mouth twisted in a frown. She made a soft sound that seemed to hover over her tongue. And Natsu… he cast his eyes downward, pretending to be absorbed in something, anything that wasn't Gray's questioning gaze. Gray had never seen such a look cross the Dragon Slayer's features before.

He could feel the tension in the room, maliciously saturating the air like Demonic Spores from an Etherious slain. Something was wrong.

"What?" he prompted. "Where's the book?"

"We…" "There was…" Erza and Lucy stumbled over each other's words. Surprisingly it was Natsu who eventually replied, the bitter tone and the words so tremendously unlike him, that it took Gray by almost as great a surprise as the meaning behind them.

"He took it, Gray. That bastard took the book. The Hundred Year Quest was a failure."

For a moment Gray felt detached from his surroundings, every image, every smell, ever sound muddled, like he were sedated, watching everything unfold through a looking glass. He couldn't wrap his head around it all.

_Failure. Failure. Failure._

All those people died and their killer was running free.

_Dead. Dead. Dead._

Gray didn't even have it in himself to feel angry. He felt hollow and drained and so bone-achingly tired… They were supposed to be victorious and celebrated and writing their names into Wizarding World history, not  _this._ Anything but this. The blood of those people were on their hands now, a life-debt, or maybe something even greater, to be repaid. It was their responsibility to protect people from Dark Wizards, whether they were innocents or petty thugs from a dot of dirt on the Caelish sea. Nobody deserved a death like theirs.

"That can't be… that…" he stuttered.  _We never lose,_ was what he meant to say. This wasn't simply a failure of a quest, but a failure to protect people, a failure to live up to Fairy Tail's ideals. All he managed to breathe out in the end was a weak: "How?"

"That peculiar magic he had… as if he took control of the blood in our veins and stopped it in its tracks. He simply walked away and we were paralyzed from his magic." Erza said, putting a gauntleted hand on his leg in an unsuccessful attempt to reassure him. "We weren't prepared for it, there was nothing we could do."

Gray glanced between them, hoping, begging for them to admit that it had been a prank. Just some kind of sick joke that spanned three godforsaken years.

"That wizard…" he said, dropping his gaze to Lucy's hand that was still firmly grasping his. "He is out there, breathing. We have to stop him."

"We will find him, Gray. I will hunt that bastard down whatever it takes. And he will pay with blood for what he did." Natsu hissed and Gray could have sworn the ends of his pink hair were burning.

"You will do nothing of the sort." barged in Laxus right in that moment with Wendy in tow. His hulking frame crowded the room a bit too much for Gray's taste. Wendy, taller now but still bird-boned and swimming in her clothes, dwarfed beside their Guild Master.

Natsu growled, positively feral: "That Dark Wizard killed a dozen people and injured Gray just to get that shitty book. I will not sit on my ass while he's still running free." He jabbed a finger at Laxus, who looked not in the least bit bothered by the outburst.

Laxus pranced over to Gray's bedside. "You can't be law unto yourself this time round, Natsu. You were set up and people  _died_. This no longer falls into Fairy Tail's jurisdiction. We will let the Council take over and we will not cause any more damage than we already have."

Gray's hands fisted into his duvet. He knew Laxus was right in wanting Natsu to let go of his personal crusade of justice. He knew crossing the Council would only cause more hostility towards the guild and Laxus was right in wanting to avoid that. But the guilt —the urge to right their wrongs, to make up for his weakness —was making him eager for revenge.

"And what do you think those pompous assholes at the Council can do about it?"

"It's not our concern what they do but the matter falls into their scope of authority." snarled Laxus, crossing his arms over his chest in a show of authority and detachment.

"You can't tell me what to do!" the Dragon Slayer thundered.

"As a matter of fact, I can." the blonde man harrumphed. "I'm your Guild Master now and you will do as I say, whether you like it or not." The air around Gray seemed heavily charged, if he'd been stuck between the plates of a capacitor and not two wizards who could harness electricity.

"As long as you need to remind your guildmates that you're their Master, you shouldn't be surprised they disobey you." said Porlyusica suddenly with her usual devastating ruthlessness. For a moment Laxus' face scrunched up in a show of the illustrious Dreyar temper his father had sired upon him and Gray thought he might berate Porlyusica too for her disrespect, but eventually seemed to think better of it and forcefully relaxed his features. To her credit, Porlyusica seemed as unfazed as if she were talking to Happy instead of Laxus. She continued in a cool voice. "Now get out. Can't you see you're exhausting the patient?"

Suddenly Gray did become aware of how heavy his eyelids felt. As if the weight of the world had been dropped on them.

Laxus gave Natsu a look that did promised a berating this time and the Dragon Slayer huffed, all of his teammates reluctantly scattering from the room.

"One more thing." the young Guild Master turned back. "I need a report from you Gray, once you feel well enough to write one. The Council's been nagging me about long overdue mission reports for months and I don't want this one to be neglected like the others. Natsu, into my office.  _Now_."

Gray could barely make out the words Laxus spoke before sleep consumed him again.

He woke once when Erza graciously returned with food and clean clothes prepared by Juvia. She told him the Water Mage had visited while he was dozing and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. He hadn't seen Juvia in months —not since their brief encounter in Crocus when he and his teammates were raiding a black market and Juvia and Gajeel were trailing an illegal Charm-dealer.

No, he shook his head, he could think about that later.

The food Erza had brought tasted divine but even eating and dragging himself to the shower felt like a chore. It took hours to put together the mission report for Laxus, the memories hazy and painful and his head threatening to split in two, jumbling up the words. To make matters worse, Porlyusica tied a sling around it to relieve the muscle, but bereft of the use of his left hand, his writing turned into an illegible, childlike scrawl.

He was fatigued, tired beyond tiredness. Too tired to even eat. His left arm ached. Then he fell asleep again and he slept and slept and slept.

* * *

At last, a commotion outside the infirmary woke him for good. A storm had descended upon the city and the Guild Hall was jam-packed. To top it all, he was more than certain he had a fever.

The cacophony of cheering and whistling assaulted him from every direction. Most wizards kept true to Fairy Tail's reputation, staggering drunk and boisterous. Only a few of them kept silent, engrossed in whatever was happening in the eye of the storm —a brawl, most likely. He almost pitied the poor fellow Natsu decided to lock horns with this time, he always picked fights with everyone and their mother when Gray wasn't around. Unfortunate souls tended to meander in when a storm hit Magnolia once in a while and many were stupid enough to get dragged into a fight, only to leave with a bleeding nose and an equally bleeding pride.

Gray wove his way through the checquerboard of faces, both familiar and new…

Only to find Cana, sprawling at a table with a handful of kegs in front of her in different states of emptiness, and at least a dozen cards set into a familiar pyramid-like formation.

Across her, sat a blonde-haired woman he'd never seen before, her expression guarded, devoid of emotion, unlike the smug grin that played about Cana's lips.

Cana plucked a card from the ones in her hand and placed it next to the other one that made up the second to last row of the pyramid that consisted of only two cards.

_The Goddess of Light._

"Ha!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "I win this round. Bottoms up, rookie."

The crowd erupted into a chorus of  _Drink! Drink! Drink!_ as the blonde woman knocked back her drink after a friendly roll of her eyes.

Gray snorted. As always, Cana was winning this hands-down. As the uncrowned champion of Fairy Tail's nonexistent Legenca Tournament, the Card Mage was unbeatable, undisputable.

"Oi, Macao! Bump!" hollered Wakaba across the room. "Twenty-thousand Jewels on Cana!"

"Thirty-thousand on Miss Greenhorn, you Ol' Puffer!

"Thirty-five on Cana!"

"Thirty-seven!" Bixlow yelled.

"Forty!"

"Call!"

"Itsa 'bout keepin' the  _Goddess_  close y'know?" giggled Cana over the cacophony of their guildmates, sweeping the girl's Jewels over to her own stack. Alcohol blunted her words into a slur. "It's all 'bout the  _Goddess_."

 _No,_  Gray thought. The  _Goddess_  was only a coup-de-grace.  _Legenca_  was all about how successfully you could outwit and outcheat your opponent into revealing their strongest cards early. Cana had chiseled him out of his money, and drank him under the table enough times to teach him that.

Despite he'd only beaten Cana a couple times, and only when she was sloshed and error-prone, he'd grown exhaustively familiar with her tactics. She played her moderately strong cards first, purposefully losing the first few rounds and forcing her opponent to use up their strongest cards. Then she uses her strong cards to secure victory for herself and forces the opponent into a corner, leaving them with their weakest cards for the last round, which she easily wins with a weak card of her own, knowing that the opponent's could only be even weaker than hers. He also knew Cana wasn't shy to use her Magic when she could, predicting her opponent's upcoming moves.  _Legenca_  had never been about fair play.

The new girl had played her cards in a surprisingly clever way, Gray assessed. She'd assumed a similar strategy but in the end she misjudged Cana gravely, like they always did, and used up  _The Dark Emperor_  in the second-to-last round, a card that could only be beaten by the  _Goddess of Light._  Which Cana obviously possessed. And if you have the Goddess, victory is yours too.

"I won the previous round. It's my turn now." Cana announced, twirling a brown curl around her finger, taunting. The crowd watched in breathless anticipation as she placed two twenty-thousand bills into the tray in the middle. "Raise."

"Call." the girl spoke, her face and tone surprisingly unreadable despite all the alcohol she must have consumed. "No, wait. All in." The crowd broke into a cascade of bellows.

Cana raised a brow, smirking. "You sure?"

The girl shrugged. "Not that I have much money left on me anyway." She gathered her coins and notes and dumped them all into a tray in the middle.

Gray didn't know what in Zeref's Book of Demons possessed him. Maybe it was the fever, or the failed quest. Or maybe he just wanted to see Cana's gambling empire burn.

"Hey, Wakaba! Fifty-thousand on the new girl." he called over the noise. At least twenty pairs of eyes landed on him. The girl whipped her face over, her pair of dark eyes large as a  _Curily's._  (2)

"Oi, look, Icy-Nuts is back on his feet!" Natsu called from where he and Lucy were cheering Cana on.

"Stars and Sky, that's half of my rent-money." Lucy complained, dragging a hand across her face. "I'm dropping out, sorry Cana."

"Call!" Macao and Wakaba shouted in their drunken stupor. Bixlow reluctantly agreed as well. So did Max and a few others, until three hundred thousand Jewels were at stake. Nab was unable to decide and was eventually forced to drop out as well.

Cana placed her last card onto the table to form the peak of the pyramid.  _The Witch._  A weak one, just as Gray had predicted.

The crowd went silent, waiting for the unknown girl to reveal her last card, the one that would decide her fate.

She flipped the card over.

A cloaked, masked figure with endless black holes for eyes, standing still as death on a green hill, with a single shooting-star overhead.  _The Stranger._

The Ice Mage's breath hitched. The crowd went diabolic.

Cana's face fell, eyes wide, lower-lip gone slack with confusion.  _The Stranger_ was the only card in the deck that could beat The  _Goddess_. The weakest card in the game, unless it's played in the final round. The wildcard, the ace, the unpredictable. The light-bringer, dark-giver, the unified diametrics and jumble of contradictions.

Gray couldn't believe it. For the first time in years Cana lost.

"Look at that!" the blonde girl's face lit up with a smug grin. She slapped her palms against the table eagerly and her drink sloshed out of its container. "Bottoms up Cana! Drink! Drink! Drink!" she laughed with her eyes crinkling and the corners and the guild hollered with her, urging the brown-haired Card Mage on.

"Vulcan-tits." Cana cursed loudly, then stood, mock-curtsying at the girl and chugged down her remaining three kegs of beer without breaking a sweat.

Someone patted him in the back in congratulation. He felt the weight of another hand on his head, ruffling his hair. But all Gray could see was the card with the masked figure on it, in black clothes and ever blacker eyes.

* * *

The new girl found him at his usual table as he was nursing a plate of late-lunch-slash-early-dinner. Him and Macao decided to split their prize in half and while buying the heartiest meal Mira had to offer had seemed like a good way to celebrate, his appetite deserted him somewhere along the way.

"You bet on me." she slid onto the seat opposite to his, her tone almost accusatory. The Ice Mage's head swivelled to face her, the movement glacially slow, pulling at the scabs on his deltoids. The girl's eyes, not black like a  _Curily_ 's as he'd suspected earlier, but a dusky purple, twinkled.

She was built and attired for close-combat, donning tight-fitting clothes that were hard to grab into, except for the long blonde hair she decided to leave half-down. A scabbard dangled from a belt at her hips, but it was on the opposite side than what his eyes were used to. Left-handed, just like him. The Guildmark was stamped over her shoulder muscle in rose-coloured ink.

"Yeah and you won both of us money. Kinda neat isn't it?" he replied. The girl scrunched up her freckled nose in confusion.

"Why did you do it? You don't know me."

Gray shrugged, no less puzzled than her.

"No idea. Just wanted to see someone beat Cana at her own game. That cheating sot had it coming."

The girl chuckled awkwardly and offered him a hand covered in an elbow-length black glove. "I'm Rune. Rune Erandel."

He took the hand, introducing himself. She told him she'd seen him in the Grand Magic Games and Sorcerer Weekly a few times and was pleased to meet him in person. Gushed about how she's dreamt of joining Fairy Tail as a child. About how lucky she felt to get in despite the long waiting list. She seemed eager, not unlike Lucy had acted when she joined, fretting over first impressions and fearing his disapproval. She laughed too often, blinked too often, squirmed too often and Gray was in no mood for small talk she had to offer. He kept on a polite mask nevertheless, silently praying for someone to come over and offer any form of salvation.

Salvation came in the form of his teammates, who seemed to cut a much better figure than the day before at the infirmary. Not as storm-tossed and with definitely fewer bags under their eyes, something the Ice Mage could not say about himself. Wrapped in bandages, with an arm in a sling and two days' worth of stubble dotting his jaw, he couldn't look any more miserable than he did. At least his grey T-shirt smelled clean enough, but it was an old, threadbare thing he no longer felt comfortable wearing.

Rune looked positively star-struck when his friends flopped down at their table.

"I can't believe I'm meeting Fairy Tail's strongest team in the flesh! This is a dream come true!"

Gray had an urge to roll his eyes. Fairy Tail's strongest team just got their asses handed to them after failing a Hundred Year Quest and letting a dozen people die at the hands of a bloodthirsty Dark Wizard. Rune's unfounded praise of their team left an ash-like taste in his mouth that made it hard to breathe.

Their victory in the Grand Magic Games and subsequently the war against Alvarez had broadened the borders of the guild. The walls of the building used to offer some level of anonymity —a shelter amongst comrades where they could be whoever they wished to be without having to keep up appearances or live up to media-set expectations. However the past few years had filled Fairy Tail with outsiders who slotted in slowly and still viewed their guildmates as, for want of a better word, celebrities. This girl struck Gray as one of such people.

She began asking Lucy about her book, pestering Erza about her different sets of armour, but ended up being by far the most enamoured with, much to Gray's surprise and chagrin, Natsu.

When the Dragon Slayer praised her on her gambling skills, Rune seemed to combust from happiness.

"You gone and done Cana so dirty!" beamed the Dragon Slayer, patting the girl on the back amicably. "Sweet revenge for all the times she kicked our asses at that dumb game."

The girl lifted her hands in defense. "You're mistaken, that wasn't at all my intention!"

"Relax, I loved every second of it. I frickin' hate that game, she deserved it."

"How did you do it? You some Alvarezian immigrant or somethin'?" Natsu blurted out and Gray almost snorted at the irony of it all. While the girl certainly had the looks to be one —she strangely reminded him of Dimaria Yesta, one of Zeref's twelve Spriggan shields, but without the cruel glimmer in her eyes —she lacked the western accent.

The girl lifted a hand, waggling her fingers as if it explained anything.

"My magic." the Ice Mage felt a tug of disappointment in his chest. So the girl  _had been_  cheating too. Rune crushed his hopes of one day beating Cana at this game through fair play the way a child would crush beetles with a rock. "I knew Cana was trying to cheat to predict my moves, so I made sure she couldn't do that."

Gray had been suspecting that for a while. Cana's magic allowed her to foretell her opponents' moves, it was something she didn't keep under wraps when they were younger, but had promised not to utilise when they grew older. That thrice-damned drunkard…

"What's your magic?" Lucy asked. As the two blondes sat juxtaposed to each other, Gray noticed how starkly different they looked, despite their similarities in complexion. The new recruit was taller and leaner compared to Lucy's ample frame, her skin tanned against Lucy's porcelain, her hair a darker whiskey-colour. Where Lucy was doe-eyed and pump-lipped with soft cheeks smooth lines, this girl's face was all angles.

Rune waggled her fingers again, poking around in the air, as if reaching for something, then  _pulling_  on it. This time, when Gray focused more, zeroing in on the peculiar movement, he noticed the odd way light seemed to bend oddly around her digits, as if her hand were the event horizon of a black hole.

"Textbooks call it  _Living Magic._ I prefer  _The Tailor._ " she explained. "To put it simple, my magic gives me something like a sixth sense with which I can perceive Ethernano."

"Woah, I've never met a Sensor before! This is so cool!" clapped the Celestial Spirit Mage. Actually, none of them had. Holder-types were dime a dozen and Caster-types even more frequent, but Sensors… that was a one in a million. Suddenly he realised why Rune had been accepted into the guild that easily, despite the lengthy waiting-list.

"I think Sonya might have been one." Wendy piped in. The Ice Mage wasn't sure about that fact but Sonya did have peculiar magic of the likes they had never seen before. Gray wondered what the young Queen of Stella was up to these days… The post-war years haven't exactly been kind to the monarchs of Ishgar.

"Fight me!" Natsu burst out. Gray dragged a hand across his face. Not this crap again.

To his utmost surprise, Rune handled the situation with unforeseen humility.

"That would be pretty one-sided. You see, my magic wasn't really made for fighting." she smiled sheepishly and patted the sword strapped to her waist. "This one does most of it for me."

The five of them watched the weapon with keen interest. Erza inclined her head at it, prompting the girl to unsheathe the sword, ever the curious when it came to weapons. Gray himself could not deny he was intrigued as well. He'd never fought a Sensor type before, in fact, he'd never even seen one fight.

The sword came free from its scabbard. Lucy and Natsu made a unanimous sound of awe.

"It's beautiful!" Lucy exclaimed. Indeed it was. A one-handed shortsword made for slashing and plunging, forged from some deep purple crystal, not much unlike his own weapons when channeled his father's magic, both in shape and colour. But there was something different to it, an eerie glow, something acutely evil and gluttonous. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

"A Lacryma-sword." Rune explained, as if reading his thoughts. "It eats magic."

Oh. Gray nodded with a pinprick of a frown scratched between his eyebrows. Nice. Stellar.

Erza, on the other hand, looked utterly lovestruck when Rune handed it over to her for trying. "Such a well-balanced sword deserves a name."

" _Voracity._ " the girl introduced.

An ill-starred name for an ill-starred weapon, Gray concluded. His teammates did not seem to mind though, when they passed around the sword amongst themselves, poking and prodding at the luminous blade, something akin to fascination flashed through their eyes.

Rune's glanced at him, as if feeling his uncertainty.

"You don't seem very comfortable." she assessed, seeing through him with unnerving ease.

Gray shrugged awkwardly with his arm in the sling. "Well, it just… kind of sucks away life-force, you know."

The girl chuckled, like he was some kid to be berated.  _Tut-tut, stupid boy._  It made Gray feel somewhat ashamed of himself for judging so quickly.

"It is constitutively active, but not to an extent you are supposed to feel. Unless I cut your strings of ether with it. Or you."

Gray's eyebrows rose beneath his fringe. Most types of magic were fit to kill when not controlled properly, but whatever power this girl had, it rubbed the Ice Mage the wrong way. "Is that supposed to make me feel relieved?"

"Well, I've never stabbed a man to death before, so I wouldn't know. But one would die from Magic Deficiency Disease before they even have a chance to bleed out."

That definitely wasn't relieving. A sword that could accelerate a normally chronic disease into a span of mere minutes. He'd heard countless bloodcurdling tales about the deadly illness of wizards and how long it could torture a person before death would finally claim them. It had claimed Lucy's mother and had almost many of their guildmates after they overexerted themselves. The Celestial Spirit Mage had always been tight-lipped about her mother's demise, but he knew Layla had suffered for years and opening the Eclipse Gate had only been the last straw.

"It's so warm." Erza said, yanking him back to reality as she offered him the sword. Tentatively, Gray pressed his right hand against the blade, careful not to cut himself on it, especially while he was still supposed to be healing. Indeed, the sword felt warm to the touch, as if it were  _alive_.

Rune went on explaining: "It cannot contain all that ether it eats, so most of it dissipates in another form of energy, either light or heat."

"Pretty neat." Lucy hummed. Rune flashed her a smile. A weapon like this must have cost a fortune, he wondered. Certain types of Lacryma were incredibly hard to come by and could cost millions of Jewels when crafted and imbued with magic by a master craftsman. And this one… instead of being saturated by magic like most Lacryma crystals, it was a hollow, perpetually-hungry thing, eager to suck the ether out of living, breathing creatures.

"Where did you get one of these?" Gray asked.

"A graduation gift from my instructor at the Academy."

Wendy's mouth popped wide. "The Academy of Sinclair?"

"Mm-hmm!" Rune hummed, nodding eagerly and it drew out a noise of bewondernment from Lucy.

"That's like the number one Magic School in Ishgar. I've always wished to go, I'm so jealous!"

"Chelia went there too. And Eve from Blue Pegasus." Wendy murmured absently.

Erza's eyes narrowed because Jellal did too, under the guise of Siegrain Fernandes. And Ultear as well, as far as Gray knew. He also knew Levy applied too when she turned seventeen, only to be rejected ruthlessly by the instructors. They'd blamed it on her home-schooling but everyone knew the real reason was her affiliation with Fairy Tail.  _What a prejudiced bunch,_  Gray thought. Many of the Council's weak-ass Rune Knights were trained at the Academy but they were so far up their own asses that they wanted none of Fairy Tail's wizards because of their guild's mixed-reputation, whether they were fluent in seven languages —two of which were dead —or not.

Lucy grabbed Rune's hands, her whole frame brimming with enthusiasm, her pigtails bobbing. "You have to tell me  _everything_  about the Academy! Did you meet any princes or princesses? Do you really have those forbidden student initiation rituals? Secret doors and passages? Classified libraries with ancient books?"

They soon fell into a conversation Gray had opted to extricate himself from. The four girls chattered almost pleasantly with an occasional input from Natsu, but the immense weight of the failed quest, of witnessing those men die, didn't cease its incessant push on their shoulders.

The storm didn't diffuse, in fact the wind had shifted, raindrops hammering against the roof like pebbles on a foul-wheeler's windscreen.

Gradually he became aware that something was wrong. Mirajane had abandoned her post behind the bar and was frantically scurrying around the tables with Freed in tow in a flurry of reds and greens and silvers, deep frowns tugging on their features. The commotion in the hall quickly evaporated, any traces of mirth whisked away, packed away somewhere lead-lined and dark when Laxus stepped upon the stage with Gajeel wheeling Gramps behind.

Laxus cleared his throat into a microphone, his face grave. "Guildmates, may I have your attention?" He said in a bleak, treacle-like voice. Gray's stomach turned in an unpleasant way.

The guild held back its breath as one, waiting for their young Master to continue.

"I just received a call from the Chief of Custody Enforcement of the Council's Fiore branch. Ivan Dreyar escaped from prison."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annotations:  
> 1.) Lysandra is calling Jellal a traitor twice-over because he betrayed the Council once as Siegrain (obviously) and then when he escaped from prison shortly after confessing to his crimes. The Council members don't exactly know it was entirely Ultear's and Meredy's doing, they just think they aided Jellal in his own plans instead of orchestrating his escape entirely by themselves.  
> 2.) A small animal that migrates to Tenrou Island during winter, but is indigenous to Northern Fiore and the colder countries. Check it out, it actually exists in canon. They pop up in the Tenrou chapters regularly and they also appeared in some of the chapters set in Isvan, Gray's country of origin, that's why he compares her eyes to that of this animal's. Could anyone ever beat me at Fairy Tail trivia? I think not. lol
> 
> A/N: Boom, it's done! Like it? Love it? Hate it? Leave a review! This girl always welcomes constructive criticism with open arms.
> 
> To be completely honest with you guys, I was really, really close to giving up and abandoning this story. There were (and still are) so many kinks that need a smoothing out and while the chapter sets a basis for it, there is a lot of work to be done and a lot of issues that need to be addressed before we can move into the actual plot plot. This is kind of what the first part (Card One) of this fic will be about, a set-up, like in a greek drama. I feel so dumb mentioning greek dramas and effing Fairy Tail, the actual dumbest show in existence, on the same page, but here we are. Anyway, now we roughly know what happened to Team Natsu during the three-year timeskip (don't worry, there is still stuff to come) but a bunch of things have happened back at the guild as well, which I haven't been able to address yet. *ehem* We still have a Gajevy wedding to plan, haha. 
> 
> Edit: Don't worry guys, Juvia will finally appear in the next chapter ;) 
> 
> Also I knoow I promised Sabertooth stuff for this chapter (and good news, all the sabertooth kids have very important roles to play and I adore them) but I just couldn't fit Sting's POV in here, like I previously intended. Jellal's got way too long, but I hope you all enjoyed it, he's one of my favourites to write.
> 
> Aaaand, I'll just stop rambling now.


End file.
